


Homeboy

by soulswimmer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boarding School AU, M/M, Slow Burn, alcoholism tw, anxiety warning, didn't put warnings for graphic violence bc there are like 2 vague fistfights no biggie, except for bokuto he takes like .3 seconds to fall for akaashi, extremely brief mentions of kagehina, in which we are ALL bokuto, mentions of bokuaka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulswimmer/pseuds/soulswimmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo is a rich boy with impeccable volleyball skills. He attends a boarding school called Nekoma Academy, where he lives with his friends. Kenma makes it into the same prestigious academy by a scholarship, desperately leaving his old, broken life behind, and somehow runs headfirst into Kuroo, Bokuto, Daichi, and many others along the way. Shenanigans and angst ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Booze Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (4/22/17): This is a kuroken fic, all things considered. It's a story about Kuroo and Kenma falling for each other and being oblivious dorks, but more than anything, it's about Kenma. It's about how Kenma finds home, friends, and family. It's about him learning to love others and also himself.  
> Please enjoy my labor of love!

**[14:08] Lev:** HURRY!! KAWATABI AND HARUKI ARE PISSED, MAN. WE NEED ALL THE HELP WE CAN GET. THIS IS THE LAST TIME, I SWEAR.

 

Kenma Kozume didn’t really like fighting, for as often as he found himself doing so.

 

It was also quite possible that Kenma Kozume didn’t really like his school, or town, or empty pockets, or quite frankly, what he saw in the mirrors. And yet the indifferent teachers, broken down buildings, and rumpled, torn clothing were all things that made Kenma who he was, whether it pleased him or not. So he would let his biography be written, and would join in on a fight whether he really cared for it or not.

 

Beat up sneakers pounded into the southbound forest trail, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. Kenma ran, chest heaving, and silently scolding himself. He had promised his friends with his loyalty, but the fight waiting for him at the end of his journey didn’t seem all that important or worth all the energy he was using up. If it weren’t for the barrage of texts in his inbox, the boy would’ve let Lev and the others handle themselves, but their group was outnumbered, so a simple fight could take a sour turn fast.

 

Turning the corner, he found a large group of boys gathered by the stream, bedraggled and breathing heavily. When a branch snapped underneath his foot, they turned to him, and half the group scowled his way. The other half smiled upon his arrival.They were composed entirely of Kenma’s acquaintances, classmates, and also volleyball team members. It was rather pathetic that there were only 5 of them on his team, but their school didn’t have the budget for an official volleyball club, and it seemed as though no one in the school had interest in it anyway. Yet somehow Kenma had found enough people who he could teach volleyball, and in return they rewarded Kenma as their captain. They weren't the smartest bunch, but they were loyal to the core.

They were outspoken, unfocused, and couldn’t resist stirring up something interesting. If one of them got in a scuffle, the rest of the group would materialize as well, like animals in a pack. They were the only friends Kenma could ask for. They were his backup on a volleyball court, and he was theirs when there was a fight.

 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Kawatabi, the leader of the other group of boys sneered at him from across the way. The long haired boy was known for his snobby attitude and eagerness for a fight. He was never someone that Kenma could call a teammate, much less an honorable fighter. Whatever boiled his blood at any given time was likely something stupid.

“Kenma! You made it!” Lev shouted from the other side, his face radiating a sort of innocent glee. The blonde nodded at him in greeting and immediately scanned the area to try and understand what had been the source of this.

Haruki wore a devious grin and a nose that dripped with blood. The same scarlet color was smeared on Kawatabi’s knuckles, matching the devious sneer on his face. Kawatabi’s gang stood between Kenma and his friends, separating him from support. That was alright with him. He could work through most any problem they caused him. In a fight, stealth and luck were his two best friends.

 

“Made it just in time for you to see me kick Haruki’s ass,” Kawatabi scoffed, stepping dangerously close to the shorter boy.

 

“You talk a whole lot of shit, Kawatabi!” Haruki spat, giving his chest a shove. Kenma sighed. Between shouts and shoves, he caught on to accusations of rumors and writing slurs in sharpie on each other’s lockers. It was stupid, quite frankly, to be fighting over such a thing. But Kawatabi and his gang had a reputation to uphold. There was nothing they loved more than a good fight. And it looked as though he was in for a real one, as Kenma felt his stomach twist in disgust and rage as he saw knives hidden in each boy’s back pockets. Bringing a knife to a fistfight was uncalled for, unheard of, even in Makuro. His friends were outnumbered 7 to 5. If they chose to pull out their weapons, things could turn ugly fast.

 

Haruki stepped just a bit too close to Kawatabi’s personal space, and a fire was lit in the other boy's eyes. A fist connected with Haruki's jaw, followed an onslaught of yelling from Haruki's side. The two groups moved in on each other, an explosion of shoves, spit, and punches exchanged before Kenma could blink. Lev seemed almost too enthused, dodging and picking the other boys up, tossing them away from him. A couple of boys ended up doused in the stream, thanks to the tall Russian boy. Nakashima, who then noticed that Kenma wouldn’t react to any provocation, grabbed him by the collar.

 

“What’s your problem, huh? Came all the way here to gawk at the big boys? Are you a pussy or something?!” he taunted. Kenma swiftly kicked Nakashima in the shin, and the boy let out a yelp, swinging aimlessly. But Nakashima’s clumsiness was where Kenma had the advantage. He slipped under Nakashima’s under, and slunk around him, snatching the cheap little knife from out of the boy’s back pocket and maneuvering towards other boys.

 

Lather, rinse, repeat. One by one, Kenma disarmed all six boys without being noticed, slipping the knives into his hoodie pocket. He avoided their attention and their flailing limbs in favor of the weapons they possessed. They were all the same knife, meaning that they had probably made a group decision to arm themselves. Taunts were shouted and yelling increased as the fight went on, until they exhausted themselves. Hardly any punches were being thrown by the time Kawatabi finally reached in his pocket.

“Haruki you can take that shit eating grin and shove it up your--” he stopped, patting his back pocket. “Hey, what the fuck?”

The rest of his gang followed suit, searching for the knives that had been stolen from their pockets. Kenma held up a fistful of them for all boys to see, making his friends gasp. They weren’t much of a threat, really. The knives were so cheap, Kenma could probably snap the blades in half with little effort.

“Is this how you end a fight, Kawatabi? With casualties?” Kenma asked disapprovingly. Kawatabi stared at him, shocked that Kenma managed to both rob them and come out completely untouched. That was Kenma’s speciality, an underestimated one at that.

“Knives?!” Lev yelped, almost in awe. “Is all chivalry dead?”

“I don’t supposed Daishou taught you to fight like this, did he?” Kenma asked. Their leader winced. Suguru Daishou was their previous “leader”, directing the group of rascals where to go and who to fight and when to do it. He was a cocky bastard, it was true, but Daishou knew which rules to break and which to leave alone. On some levels, he was good at heart. Sometimes Kenma had to remind himself that the same applied to every boy. They were good people, deep down, they just ended up in the wrong kind of homes, the wrong school in the wrong town. So they lashed out at each other, simple as that. They bought cheap knives to make other people afraid of them. Kenma wasn’t much different from them, but he never had the intentions to cause legitimate harm.

“Maybe this information needs to go public,” Kenma shrugged, glancing at the other group with an eyebrow cocked.

“Oi, come on Kenma, we were just gonna use it to scare you off, y’know? We weren’t gonna hurt nobody,” one of them protested.

“It doesn’t. Matter,” Kenma stated simply. He took the knives and hurled them as far as he could, and they landed in the stream, disappearing from site. “It doesn’t matter what started this. It’s done now.”

A few grumbles emitted from the other gang, as well as victorious smirks from Kenma’s team. Wallowing in their regret and defeat, they picked up their bags and began to shuffle away from the site.

“Oi, Kenma that knife cost me, man, you owe me 700 yen,” one guy grumbled, Kawatabi didn’t say anything to them, but Nakashima turned to Kenma.

“Tell her ma hello for us, booze baby” he scoffed, and Kenma’s veins ignited. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, quick as lightning, and pushed on Nakashima with as much force as he could muster. The boy was on the ground in seconds. Kenma reached down and grabbed him by the collar, and could see his own furious expression in Nakashima’s saucer eyes.

Kenma searched for words. A threat, an insult, something to make sure Nakashima never ever repeated the crushing nickname Kenma had gained in his school again. But no words strong or clever enough came. Maybe it was because Kenma didn’t have the guts to say it. Maybe he couldn’t come up with anything other than a slew of threats to hurl at him. But it was mostly because he knew that Nakashima, for as quick a mouth as he had, didn’t deserve it. So instead, Kenma released his collar, shoving him back roughly.

“Let’s go,” he said simply to Lev, Haruki, Kindaichi, and Inuoka. They followed him down the path along the stream, leaving the other group alone. Before they were out of eye and ear shot, Kenma glanced back to see Kawatabi helping Nakashima up.

 

“Number one rule, bro- don’t bring up Kenma’s mother. Everyone knows that.”

 

Kenma’s stomach began to growl not long after the boys strolled out of the forest, discussing things like school and volleyball. Kindaichi’s nose was bleeding, and Lev had a nasty bruise on his cheek, but not surprisingly, they were all in good spirits. Kenma tried drowning out Lev’s chatter by playing on his Gameboy, but he still caught bits of him rambling about how “super suave Kenma-san was!”. Outside of their school, Kenma’s teammates were carefree and in bright spirits. Not that they cared a whole lot for their grades or performance, but anywhere that wasn’t filled with other sweaty and anger-fueled  teenagers was a good place. Instead of being crammed in a place with phenomenally apathetic, they may as well have gone anywhere where there wasn’t people to not care in the first place.

 

He parted with his friends after a couple of blocks, excusing himself and going to a local gas station where Kenma found most of his food after school:

 

The gas station was barely still standing. It wasn’t old necessarily, just some shack that had been built to last 10 years at most. Truckers and filthy kids like him would stop through, use the ice cold showers, and leave. Kenma could take anything he wanted from the store, but it wasn’t as though he wanted to. Just a small snack, and then he was out of there. The usual.

 

A bored clerk, probably 5 years older than Kenma, sat behind the counter, tapping his thumb on the hard surface to the music that buzzed over the intercom. He was not at all interested in his job, much less Kenma’s whereabouts. Kenma slunk through the store, and found just what he was looking for. A bottle of water, a pack of gum, and a packet of dried out carrots. His method was simple. Buy what was cheapest, preferably the largest item, and smuggle out the rest. It was routine, it was normal, it was what needed to be done.

 

“Just the water?” the young man asked behind the counter, his name tag reading Clarence. Kenma almost laughed at such a regular name belonging to a guy with a shaved head, covered head to toe in black tattoos. His gaze just shouted _I could break you like a toothpick._ Kenma wasn't afraid of Clarence, not one bit.

“Just the water,” Kenma confirmed, dropping a crumpled bill on the counter. It was the only currency in his pockets. He hated to be paying for the most expensive thing there, which was ironically a more basic human need than dehydrated carrots and bubblegum, but a water bottle was hard to hide inside his hoodie. He took the plastic bottle and mumbled a goodbye, heading for the door, before the clerk cleared his throat.

“You sure it’s _just the water_ , pipsqueak?” he said, reaching over and catching Kenma by the hood. Kenma held his breath. _Bluff, bluff, bluff._

“Yeah, is there a problem with buying water?” Kenma asked impatiently. He felt the grip on the back of his hoodie release, and Clarence swung around the counter, planting himself in between Kenma and the door. Kenma cursed silently, realized that when he wasn’t slouched over, this guy was a thousand Empire State buildings in comparison to Kenma. Physically, Kenma might be able to handle him in a fight, but the intimidation factor still hung around like a scarf, slowly suffocating him.

“Listen, Kenma. Don’t act like I didn’t see you slip something in your damn hoodie. I got my ass kicked last week by management for letting you get away with taking out half the goddamn gas station!” Kenma strained to remember what counted as “half the store”. Maybe snack food, nothing doing real damage. But Clarence wasn’t quite finished. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

 

“The feeling is mutual,” Kenma grumbled, hugging his sweatshirt protectively. Clarence’s eyes narrowed, before jabbing a finger at Kenma’s chest.

 

“Cough it up or I call the fucking cops,” he growled.

 

“Clarence, I thought I might find you here! What seems to be the problem?” a voice interrupted them, and a wrinkly hand appeared on Clarence’s shoulder. The older boy’s expression went from aggressive to curious as he jumped to the side.

“Ah! Coach Nekomata, what are you doing here?” Clarence asked. A devious, but friendly face came into view, none other than the local high school’s sports director. He gave Kenma a knowing look, and by the twinkle in his eye, Kenma knew he was getting his ass kicked later.

“I just came through to use the lavatory, but then I spotted one of my students. You’re acquainted with Kenma here, I see?”

“This little delinquent here is trying to snatch goods from here, and I was just gonna call the cops,” Clarence sneered. Nekomata winced, his smile faltering.

“Ah- Clarence, now that won’t be necessary,” Nekomata assured him, and shot a glance at Kenma. “Kenma’s a good boy, really. He’ll put the stuff back, won’t you Kenma?”

Kenma sighed, pulling the cruddy packages from his pocket and tossing them on the counter. Clarence glanced, indifferent.

“I still should report any burglaries, attempted or successful,” he said snottily.

“Clarence,” Nekomata said. “I’m asking this as a personal favor, as your former teacher. It will not happen again.”

“I want to hear it from the little runt.”

“Kenma?”

Kenma glanced at both of him. At the snotty cashier, and his coach, sternly looking at him. He tried not to scowl. He was remorseful for stealing, yes, but being talked down to bothered him.

“It won't happen again.”

 

* * *

 

“I could’ve handled that by myself, you know,” Kenma said, kicking a rock and walking down the pavement next to his coach. Plenty of kids from his school would take little things from the stores, it was a method of survival. Clarence just took a particular dislike to Kenma.

“You should be thanking me, you know. You could’ve gotten arrested over a pack of carrots! I’ve know Clarence a long time, and he’s a little shit. Does things out of spite, is what he does. Don’t go around messing with him, understand?”

Kenma answered with silence. The coach understood Kenma’s silent responses easily, as he had been in Kenma's life for a long time. He was pissed about getting caught, but much more, he just wanted to get a snack. To him, Clarence threatening to call the police was an overreaction to such a little thing.

“Listen, Kenma. I’ve got some new sprouts in my vegetable garden, and you can take as many as you want from it. In the meantime, I ran into you at the gas station on purpose. I have an offer you may be interested in.”

“Offer?” Kenma asked as they turned the block towards Nekomata’s small cottage. The coach chose his words carefully, trying, but failing to hide the excitement in his voice. That, along with mischief. Which was the way Nekomata always talked, quite frankly. This never failed to pique Kenma’s interest. Nekomata always had something valuable to say.

“Yes. And it’s very drastic, so I don’t want you to shoot it down right away,” Nekomata confirmed, opening the front gate to his massive vegetable garden and letting Kenma in. Kenma had been to his coach’s house before, after games, or sometimes to escape his chaotic home life. Some of the most secret conversations had taken place within the property lines, and Kenma took pride in that. There wasn’t a lot in Makuro that Kenma loved, but his coach’s home remained a sort of second home for him.

“Alright, what is it?” Kenma asked, sitting on a bench by the bushes of peas. Nekomata reached in his coat and pulled out a pamphlet, handing it to Kenma. An array of greenery, stone buildings, and bright shining smiles glared up at Kenma from the small slip of paper. In golden letters, it read “Nekoma High School”. On the back listed countless awards and praise the school had been for outstanding academics, clubs, and sports- notably, volleyball.

“A...boarding school?”

“This is Nekoma. It’s a school just a couple hours from here. They’re offering a rather fantastic scholarship for academic and athletic integrity. An old buddy of mine teaches there, says he’s looking for new faces, and sent me to recruit anyone I pleased.”

Kenma looked up at Nekomata, his eyes growing wide as he realized what his coach was implying. Sending Kenma to a high class boarding school on scholarship… on an organized and highly skilled team. A frightening future flashed through his head. Overwhelming expectations, being the only kid on a scholarship, being surrounded by taller and faster and stronger people, being put on the spot at every opportunity.

“No,” Kenma said plainly. Nekomata’s face didn’t show surprise, but he did seem rather displeased.

“Well alright then,” Nekomata huffed dramatically. “I suppose it’s reasonable for you to pass, even if you are the little volleyball prodigy in Makuro. You probably wouldn’t get in anyways. Your schoolwork sucks because you work like a dog. You’ve got brains, talent, and you could get the grades. But it wouldn’t be great anyways.”

“I shouldn’t be in a place like this. I’m not going, it’s too much,” Kenma admitted quietly, setting down the pamphlet.

“It’s too much…” Nekomata repeated, dropping the guilt act. He loved to play with Kenma, and challenge his thinking, but Kenma’s stubbornness was a storm not to be reckoned with. “Will you at least consider it? You could audition for the athletic scholarship, and take the test for academic skills, and I could help you with it. But in the end, it’s your call.”

Kenma said nothing, but accepted the pamphlet when Nekomata pushed it back towards him.

“Just think about it, okay Kenma?” the coach said. “Nekoma is your ticket out of here. I promise you, you’ll be more successful there than here with me. Please, think about it.”  
“I will, I’ll think about it,” he responded, deep in thought. He stayed only a bit longer in his coach’s garden, being supplied with fresh food. Not a lot of time passed before Kenma wandered out of the house, pamphlet hidden in his coat pocket where a bag of carrots had previously been. He walked home with that and a bag of freshly grown vegetables from the garden, and considered the very sudden offer.

The picture on the cover showed a variety of students sitting in the sun, laughing with books in their laps. Clean uniforms, no worries, no cares except for their grades and their image. He felt slightly envious of that life, yet wondered how that could ever become him. He would be an alien amongst those students. No money, no brand new clothes, no nourishing and attentive family.

“Yeah, right,” he whispered, trudging up his own unkempt front yard.

The Kenma household was a tiny, plain thing. White panels, a few windows, and three bedrooms. It was true, Kenma hated Makuro’s dull and hazy atmosphere, it’s beaten up shops and people, but his house was the only permanent thing he had. It seemed as though no matter what happened, the old, shitty house would remain standing- whether Kenma cared for it or not.

The door clicked open, and Kenma was greeted by a rush of cold air. He grimaced. She forgot to pay the heating bill again.

“Kenma? You home already?” a sing songy voice ran from the kitchen. Kenma glanced at his watch, reading six in the evening. He didn’t need to look very far to see the beer bottles.

“Yeah Mom, I’m here.”

Sabrina Brello-Kozume was a pretty woman from the United States. Kenma recalled her telling stories with slurred words about his father being on a business trip in the states, and meeting her when she served steak in a diner he dropped in one night. Of course, the divorce and the drinking came long, long after that. By the time Kenma was 14, he was working part time jobs and doing all the shopping, as his mother had failed at both of those. Makuro was a small town, and Sabrina had a lovely reputation as the town drunk, spending every other night in the local pub. It was no secret that Kenma’s classmates, teachers, and neighbors knew about how much of a downward spiral Kenma’s mother had gone on. They just tried not to talk about it to Kenma’s face.

“It’s cold in here,” Kenma observed, dropping his coat over a chair, and picking up some of the empty bottled and taking them to the recycling bin.

“Oh, Kenma, honey you know how busy I get with job applications,” his mother drawled, spread out across a kitchen chair. Sabrina had promised him time and time again that she would get back on her feet and stop drinking, but all past attempts had failed. She was still in her pajamas, and she looked as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. Which, was not a completely false observation.

“Right,” Kenma said, ignoring the litter of papers also sitting on the counter.

“Hey, what’s this stuff?” Sabrina asked. A chill went down Kenma’s spine, as he remembered the Nekoma advertisement in his jacket. Sabrina squinted at it like she needed glasses.

“Your high school got some fancy restorations, huh?” she warbled. Kenma took the pamphlet from her.

“It’s not my school. It’s a boarding school coach wants me to go to,” Kenma informed her, as if she’d remember the following morning. She began to question more, but Kenma cut her off. “I’m not going. I have to stay here and take of you and the house. To make sure that the heat bill is paid every month.”

This just made her mad. Sabrina stood up suddenly looking very determined. This facade was ruined however, as she swayed dizzily.

“Hey now, who’s the adult here, young man?” she demanded. Kenma steadied her and sat her back down, snatching up the pamphlet before she could.

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell,” he mumbled back.

 

Kenma sat in his room later in the evening, wrapped in a blanket and playing his Gameboy. He was quite infatuated with the little device, the pixels on the screen never failing to make him feel a little better. It drowned out what problems he had, drowned at the constant thorns that seemed to poke and prod him everywhere he turned. It was old and outdated and beautiful in every way.

However, the unpleasant chill to his house, the absolute reek of alcohol and the pressure from his mentor was hard to ignore. The shiny piece of paper sitting on the floor distracted him quite frequently, and he kept losing the same level over and over again. He covered the pamphlet with his jacket, then his backpack, then a box, but no matter how many coverings he put on, the thing still nagged at his mind.

He couldn’t shake the cold, no matter how tightly he wrapped the blanket around him. How do you forget to pay the heating bills? How do you forget to apply to jobs? How did Kenma’s mother manage to stay awake?

 

Kenma’s anger exhausted him enough that he soon felt his eyes drooping, and the blanket being pulled tighter around his body. He couldn’t think about a life changing decision. All he needed was sleep. Kenma’s frustration and confusion put him to sleep.

... And the following morning, his body temperature dropping woke him up.

 

His clock read 6 a.m. The box, the backpack, and the blanket had all disappeared, and in its place lay the pamphlet, sitting nakedly in the center of the room. Kenma shook the sleep out of his eyes (or tried to, he had never been a morning person), and picked up his phone. He stared at it blankly, the possibilities he had considered the day before running through his mind. The pressure from strangers. The enormous work he would have to juggle to even afford such a school. His mother going through with her promises and getting a job, getting back on her feet.

 

He shivered from the cold temperature in his room. She forgot to pay the heating bill. And that was the final straw.

 _Yes,_ he decided. He was ready for change. He didn’t have any idea in his mind as to what that change would be, but he was ready for it. Kenma pressed buttons on his phone, and the dial tone buzzed twice before it was replaced with a devious chuckle.

“The test is right before spring break, so you’d better start preparing now. We only have a couple months. Gather up Lev and your other friends so we can record a match this weekend.”

Kenma blinked in surprise at the knowing tone in Nekomata’s voice. “How did you know?”

“Nothing else would get you up at this hour, Kozume. Will you really go?”

“I-I’ll try.”

“Good, and I’ll help you. You’ll make it into this school, and you’ll have to work damn hard to stay there. And Kenma?”

“Yes?”

“If you get caught stealing, fighting, or getting into any other trouble, I won’t be there to bail you out. You have one shot to change your future completely. You cannot miss that shot.”

The line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be totally honest, I didn't think I'd actually go through with legitimately writing this, but 4 chapters and 10k words later, Homeboy is my labor of love. As of now, I'm thinking it will have around 13 chapters, all about 3-4000 words long. Also Makuro is a made up town, I don't remember how I named it that haha.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, Emma, who also helped me develop a lot of the ideas for this fic. She is the best.
> 
> This entire fic was inspired by Believe by Hollywood Undead, and a couple other songs that will pop up later.


	2. Nekoma Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma gets serious about his attendance to a boarding school, in which every movement, every academic decision must be carried out with care.  
> Meanwhile, Kuroo and Bokuto review audition tapes.

“Kuroo? Bring Bokuto and come in here,” Coach Ukai’s voice called from his office. Kuroo Tetsurou wiped the sweat from his brow and nudged Bokuto beside him, perking up at the sound of his voice.  
“Hey, did you catch that Bokuto? A chance for a break, perhaps?” Kuroo turned to Bokuto with a grin.

“Or maybe we were found out about the pasta incident and are about to get our asses beat,” Bokuto shrugged as they made their way to Ukai’s desk.

“Well in that case, be cool.”

“Naturally, bro.”

Keishin Ukai and Ittetsu Takeda sat by a computer, rifling through emails and talking in low voices when Bokuto and Kuroo walked in.

“Sit down, boys, we have something important for you to see,” Ukai invited them in.  
Takeda started. “Ukai here contacted with coaches across the country, looking for people to recruit on our team, as you know. Daichi just finished up with us looking for auditions on the competitive team. We have audition tapes for the recreational team for you two to see.”

“One of the coaches we contacted is Nekomata, from a town a couple hours from here,” Ukai finished the statement. “He found a kid with real talent, and since he can’t come here, we just want to look at a tape of him playing volleyball, and see if he has what it takes for a scholarship here.”

“We called you here to help us make our decision, as captain and vice-captain,” Takeda added. “You just have to watch the tape with us and tell us what you think.”  
Bokuto looked at Kuroo. Kuroo looked back at Bokuto.

“That sounds fine to me,” Kuroo said.

“Let’s see what this guy’s got,” Bokuto grinned. Ukai opened the file in his email, and the video began. A group of boys in t-shirts and sweatpants took up the shot, but the camera focused on the boy in the center. He was shorter than all the others, especially the one with silver hair, and he had wide, cat-like eyes that made Kuroo’s heart instantly do a wild tap dance. But it didn’t end there. The atmosphere surrounding the 5 boys was wild, untamed, and free. They didn’t look as though they had ever gotten intense training or practices, which made their skills somewhat lacking, but they were all perfectly in sync with each other. And in the center of it all was the blond setter. He stood out among them, his passes flawless and careful. He was slow to the chase, but he recieved balls well. His sets were out of this world, calculated perfectly for the spiker’s receive. And Kuroo felt himself instantly want more than anything than to be on that court with that setter, so perfectly in sync like he was with the rest of his ragtag team.  
The camera then turned off of the blonde boy and onto and old, friendly face.

“You see, Ukai?” the man, presumably Nekomata said. “That’s our captain, Kenma. He doesn’t look like a whole lot now, but I guarantee, he’ll fit right in with your boys. So long!”

The screen went black, and the four of them sat back in silence. The two adults looked at each other knowingly, and Bokuto still gawked at the computer.

“Well, his grades are adequate enough, and he received a passing score on his entry exam. What do you boys think about letting this kid on our team?” Ukai pondered. Kuroo looked at Bokuto, and Bokuto looked back at Kuroo.

“When can he start?” Bokuto asked.

 

The bus hummed softly as it rolled down the road, almost putting Kenma to sleep. He glanced at the window, watching the trees and countryside outside. The grip on his suitcase was tight, and his heart thumped impatiently in anticipation. He knew that soon, he would leave the bus in favor of a new life, a new school, and quite possibly, a new home.

 _No,_ he thought. _How could a place like that ever be home?_

The contents in his suitcase were simple and plain. The nicest clothes in his closet; which were to be his casual clothes, his old hoodie, pillow, school supplies, emergency cash, his Gameboy, and within the most discreet pocket- a 6 year old slip of paper with a phone number on it, reading below: _“If you ever need anything-- call.”_  
Kenma hadn’t dialed that number in years. His attention however, wasn’t focused on that slip of paper, but his goodbyes. Of course, over the course of the past couple of months, his teammates were shocked, thrilled, and sorrowful all at once. They shook his hand, hugged him tight, and socked him in the shoulder just before Kenma boardedthe bus. Lev shed tears, and Kenma almost felt bad about leaving. He recalled turning to Haruki, almost forgetting a very important point. Needless to say, Haruki soon was crying along with Lev when Kenma appointed him captain of their ragtag volleyball squad.

On the other hand, his mother took a while before she would even allow such a thing to happen. Kenma was already preparing before she even bowed and gave her permission for him to attend the school, but it took a while. Her initial reaction was confusion: “That pamphlet you showed me the other night? What, you’re not really thinking of going, are you?”. Her stubborn nature, which had always been smoothed over with a glass of whiskey, became more prominent as Kenma became more serious about leaving. Her random buzzed babbling became quieter with time.

Whenever he had the opportunity, Kenma brought up the topic, and she showed disapproval and questioned him. What about the house? How would they pay for that? Was it a good investment? He was just going to leave his mother alone? And for the first time in a while, Kenma cooperated with his mother, and she stayed sober for the entirety of it. He discussed scholarships and part time jobs and adulthood with her. As soon as the implication of Sabrina being unable to take care of herself came up, she waved him away, insisting that she wasn’t applying for all those jobs for nothing. Finally, already weeks into Kenma’s grueling reparation of his school and athletic career, Sabrina bent and granted Kenma her favor.

For the first time in a while, Kenma decided to trust his mother. And so they made a deal. If he got the scholarship, and got a job too, she would promise to take care of herself while he left.

“Arrived at destination: Nekoma Academy,” the speaker on the bus said. Kenma’s heart lept from his chest and landed in his suitcase, which he hauled close to him for safety. Shuffling down the aisle of the public bus, he quietly inhaled the scent of strangers, of cheap plastic seats, of familiarity. Dropping change into the basket next to the bus driver, he quickly stepped off, and onto the pavement outside.

Nekoma was a different world. Fully grown trees stretched across a green lawn, and the white stone buildings that lay ahead looked ancient yet indestructible. It was bigger than the pamphlet could make it look, but small and isolated enough that it was like it’s own little planet. The city of Nekoma itself lay just beyond the patch of forest, only a 10 minute walk. There, he would find his job, but on the campus was where he would live for at least one year. The air was pleasant and fresh. He was arriving far into the first day, and was to start his classes with the rest of the school on the second day, and attend the meeting for volleyball later in the afternoon.

Kenma glanced down at his map and wandered down the pavement towards a small building closest to him, the administration office.

“Kenma Kozume,” the plump lady at the desk inside hummed at her computer. “Ah, yes, we have a lot to discuss.”  
In a matter of minutes, Kenma was donning another bag, filled with sheets for his bed, booklets of information, and clothes that were to be his uniform. Their conversation ranged from talking of fees, books, financial aid, job hunting, his room, his schedule, his uniform, and his classes. In that time Kenma must have signed five papers, and answered the same questions over and over. By the end, he was mentally and physically exhausted.

“Well, Kenma, your roommate is already checked into your room, and he’s waiting for you now. Just come down here if you have questions!”

Kenma walked out of the office, a single key in one fist, and made his way towards the dorm. His mind raced with different concerns, but somehow above financial aid and job searching, he managed to be most concerned with what how he would fit in at this school. He tried not to look at the students sitting in the grass on their break, laughing with each other and admiring their clean new uniforms. He wondered if he would make any friends in his classes or even if his roommate would be able to remember his name. Everybody had known his name of Makuro, but even there he could keep a low profile. At Nekoma, surely he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Kenma strolled down the corridor, listening to the sound of students laughing and joking in their dorms. At that moment the entire dorm building population was becoming acquainted with each other, as part of first day requirements.  
304, room 304, Kenma searched on the doors, until finally he reached one with the numbers 304 printed on it. “Your roommate is already checked in,” the lady at the desk had told him. Kenma hesitated as he lifted his hand, then shook the alarmed thoughts from his head and rapped on the door quietly. A beat of silence followed before the door swung open quickly.

The first thing to greet him in the doorway was a hair of wild, orange hair. The wide-eyed boy before him cocked his head slightly, no sign of a mean bone anywhere in his body.

“Are you Kozume Kenma?” he asked politely.  
“Yeah. And you’re Hinata Shouyou?” Kenma responded, his voice suddenly much smaller than his brain had told him to make it. Hinata’s meek composure disappeared, and a wide grin broke out on his face, matched with sparkling eyes.

“That’s right! Come in, meet your new room!” Shouyou swung the door open wider and beckoned Kenma to enter theatrically. The new room he shared with Hinata was clean and clear, only one side of it decorated with posters, pictures of friends, and a brightly colored bedspread. Two beds sat opposite of one another, and in between were two small nightstands and a window, with a view of some of the campus. He glanced at the bathroom in the corner, accompanied by two tiny closets and a mirror. It smelled as though it had been recently cleaned. The small dorm looked so comfortable, Kenma could have flopped on his small mattress right then and there and slept for the rest of the day.

“Pretty nice place, huh?” Shouyou disrupted his thoughts spinning around on his toe gleefully. “It looks so perfect, I thought putting up my posters would ruin it all. I hope you don’t mind if I take this side of the room. If I had my way, I wouldn’t change a thing about this place.”

“It certainly is clean,” was all that Kenma could say. Shouyou laughed. It was an innocent laugh, and Kenma coudln't help but smile.

“Yeah, you’re right!” he agreed, sitting on his bed ungracefully. “So, my mom keeps tellin’ me that I need to ‘set boundaries’ and stuff and get to know you. So… we might as well do that.”

“Alright,” Kenma agreed, sitting on the edge of his naked bed. “What do you want to know?”

“Hmmm. Okay, where are you from?”

Kenma hesitated. He hadn’t planned to even mention that at this school. He was there to get his education, find a nice university that he could afford and get out. No one needed to know about that garbage dump.

On the other hand, Shouyou looked so painfully friendly and easy going, and he’d probably find out some things eventually. They would be living together for a year. It might even do him some good just to mention it.

“I’m from Makuro,” he said.

“Huh. Never heard of it! I’m from Karasuno. It’s a farm town way far from here. Your turn!” Shouyou piped. Kenma was taken aback. Well, that was good. The name didn’t ring a bell, and Shouyou didn’t seem to pry any more. Kenma’s attention shifted from Shouyou to a volleyball sitting in the corner by his bed, and his attention piqued a bit.

“You play volleyball?”

“Yeah! It’s one of the reasons I’m here, actually. I plan on going to nationals with the competitive team and making it all the way to the top!” Shouyou said brightly, gesturing largely with his hands. The conviction in his voice and the excitement in his eyes almost convinced Kenma that Shouyou absolutely could do it. Kenma could scarcely deal with that much excitement by itself, but he still felt intrigued.

“Good luck with that. I’m here on the recreational team, so I don’t really think I’ll make it that far,” he shrugged, pulling out the bag he had been given and pulling out the sheets to set his bed up with. Hinata squealed loudly.

“You play volleyball?!”

“Yep.”

“What position? What team were you on before? How long have you been playing?” Shouyou bombarded him with questions. Kenma realized that living with someone else who played volleyball probably made Hinata’s life 1000% better. He answered him simply. Setter. School team. 5 years.

“What’s your favorite marine animal?”

“...What?”

“You know, animals that live in the water,” Shouyou looked at him innocently.

“A starfish. Why do you ask?” Kenma said, tucking the sheet under his mattress.

“That’s an important question! Everybody has a favorite marine animal!”

“I guess…”

For the following fifteen minutes, Kenma found out quite a bit about Shouyou while being asked very random and very trivial questions. When Kenma unpacked his clothes and hung them up, Shouyou asked him what his favorite flavor of pie was. When he organized his school supplies, Shouyou asked him if he thought that animals had dreams. While Kenma put on the last of his blankets on his bed, he was asked whether he was a morning or night person. None of the questions had any particular importance or relevance to each other.  
Kenma also discovered that Hinata Shouyou was a year younger than him, dreamed of being an ace on the volleyball team, had one little sister, loved boys and only boys (namely some guy named Kageyama, but that was a secret), and had a small infatuation with crows. In addition, he owned a wide plethora of video games, and was excited to learn that Kenma only had his Gameboy to keep him company.  
“This is great!” Shouyou had said. “This means that I can show you all the games my friends are sick of playing! I never get tired of ‘em, though.”  
Hinata Shouyou was definitely one of the most eccentric, boisterous, and loud people Kenma had ever met. And he was already quite fond of the redhead’s company.

Making a plan to explore the school (and scope out the gym), Shouyou and Kenma decided to try their uniforms out. Kenma took the clothes from his draw and buttoned the white shirt gingerly, tied the red tie gingerly, and very gingerly pulled the dark gray vest and slacks on. Looking at himself in the mirror was like looking at a stranger. The clean cut quality of the uniform didn’t match his dip dyed hair and tired eyes. They were a striking contrast to his hoodie, faded and a size too large. The uniform fit him perfectly. In a way, the strange fabric on his body was a comfort. He’d never had to worry about standing out in his street clothes, he looked just like one of them, like every other student in the school.  
“You okay, Kenma?” Shouyou asked, his clothes matching the blond’s. Kenma grasped his shirt, looking down at himself.  
“My old school didn’t have uniforms like these,” was all Kenma could say. Shouyou smiled at him, and grabbed the map of the school.  
“Come on, Kenma. The gym awaits us,” he said, putting a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma took one last look at himself in the mirror. He was new, he was different, he was an alien in human clothing. He turned away and followed Hinata to the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also one more thing worth mentioning: Like american schools have JV and Varsity, Nekoma has Rec and competitive team. Just think of it as JV/Varsity, but with no limits on what year you have to be. Chapter 3 to be uploaded in a bit. Thanks for reading!


	3. Cats, Crows, and Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma's volleyball career begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're into listening to songs that inspired the fic, I encourage you to go nuts:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rqz_JyAUZyg

“Are you ready to go, Shouyou?” Kenma asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Shouyou hopped around their otherwise quiet room, attempting to pull his shoes on. The weekend, which had been occupied by introductory student meetings, tours, and adjusted to living on the campus, was coming to a close with all the sports teams having their first official meetings. Kenma spent the past few days anticipating it, eager to put on a normal t-shirt and shorts for once, but his excitement dwarfed in comparison to Hinata, who could hardly stand still.

“I can’t wait to meet everyone! I’ll bet they’re as good as the girls I played with in middle school!” Hinata announced, joining Kenma out the door. Their hall was filled with students buzzing around excitedly, chattering amongst themselves about their clubs and sports. Kenma spotted a few boys dressed similarly to Shouyou and him, probably on their way to their first practice as well.

“Now where’s the gym again?” Kenma asked, peeking over Shouyou’s shoulder at the map.

* * *

 

The boys walked quickly out of the dorm building and made their way across the campus. Hinata held up a map and guided them to the other building, reading the directions out loud as they went. Kenma let Hinata do most of the talking, as the younger boy was much better at making conversation by himself.

“Alright, let’s exchange phone numbers, so if you get locked out, you can call me and I’ll come by with my key!” Hinata rambled as they approached the gym. He typed in Hinata’s phone number, quietly amused. If anyone would get locked out of their room on accident, it would probably be Hinata. And Kenma had said little, but genuinely enjoyed Hinata’s company. He bid Hinata goodbye temporarily, and the two agreed to meet back up outside the gym after practice to make their way back to their room. Kenma parted one way, to the recreational team, while Hinata wandered to find his teammates on the competitive team.

When Kenma walked through the gym doors, he wasn’t surprised to see flier after flier describing other sports meetings, and when and where they met. Today, apparently, the volleyball players dominated the gym. According to the paper he had received upon his acceptance, he was to dress quickly and meet at 4:30 p.m.

“Bokuto! For God’s sake, if you don’t look where you’re spiking, you’re gonna kill someone!”

“I’m not sorry!”

A chorus of sneakers, bounces, and yelling greeted Kenma. About 15 boys gathered on the court, tossing and spiking and jumping, the normal warm up routine Kenma had seen in the high school matches on TV. Kenma was enthralled with a sense of excitement and pure fear at the same time.

“Are you here for the rec team?” someone asked from behind him. A very pretty girl with dark hair and glasses greeted him, clipboard in hand.

“Yes, am I in the right place?” he asked.

“You sure are. I’m Kiyoko, one of the managers. And over there is our captain Kuroo. You’ll want to go see him.”

“Thank you,” Kenma replied and excused himself. Walking across the court, he tried to hide his face within his long blonde hair. There were way too many people in the gym, way too many people that he had to meet. Chances are, they had already become acquainted with each other, and Kenma was a minute too late to just blend right in. Careful, careful, don’t let anyone see.

But they did see. The captain of the team, Kuroo, turned his way, and  blinked in surprise. He was quite taller than Kenma, and had dark hair that looked as though it had never been combed. His eyes were analytic, matched with a devious smile. But that all disappeared when he saw Kenma, and instead, his face melted into a kind smile, as though he and Kenma knew each other their entire lives.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Kuroo mused. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person, Kenma.”

Kenma shared a handshake with Kuroo, and looked curiously at the way his demeanor completely transformed.

“You knew who I was before?” Kenma asked.

“I saw you playing with those other guys in your audition clip. My coach wanted help in recruiting, and we all thought you did great, so yeah, I recognize you. I’m Kuroo, by the way,” he said. Kuroo looked dangerous. Not necessarily the stereotypical movie Bad Boy dangerous, but dangerous in the way that he’d wink at someone trying to look suave and then trip and knock something over, injuring multiple people in the process. The prize winning smile he gave Kenma hid so much trouble, Kenma thought he’d need caution tape.

“Oh,” was all Kenma said, observing that Kuroo was one of the reasons Kenma was there in the first place. He decided to change the topic. “And, your manager wanted me to meet with you for instructions?”

“Yeah, we’re just warming up here. You can jump in with any of these guys. There’s Bokuto, Tsukkishima, Yamaguchi, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Yaku over here,” he said, pointing to each of the boys. “I think Yaku would be your best match, he’s real good with people, so you can talk to him. After we’re done warming up we’ve got a tradition for each first practice of the year. You like challenges?”

“Not really,” Kenma shrugged, provoking Kuroo to grin wider.

“Well, I think you’ll like this one,” he retorted. “Every year, for the first practice, and last practice of the semester, we have a match for fun against the competitive team. Have you seen them?”

“One of their players is my roommate.”

“All the better. Well, they’ve won every year I’ve been here, but it’s not like it counts in a tournament or anything. So after a little breaking in, we get to play with them. For now, why don’t you just toss around the ball with Yaku and some other guys? They could use the help.”

“Alright,” Kenma agreed, staring a little too long even after Kuroo’s attention shifted to other first years shuffling into the gym. The captain was the second person at this school to some

 

“Hey _hey_! This is our newbie, huh?!” A salt and pepper haired boy yelled, standing like a skyscraper above Kenma as the younger boy strode over to them. Behind him, a much shorter third year looked on him with both discipline and camaraderie.

“Along with the first-years too, Bokuto. Can you try to not scare him?” Yaku prodded his side, but Bokuto hardly noticed. His wild eyes were set on Kenma, as knowing and devious as his captain’s.

“What do you play volleyball for, Kenma?” he challenged. Kenma stood up a little straighter, and caught the ball Bokuto hurled at his head to test for reflexes.

“I don’t know. That’s kind of a weird question, isn’t it?.” Kenma replied, shrugging off the question and gripping the ball tightly. Bokuto frowned at his answer, but before he could respond, Yaku lectured Bokuto some more about intimidation, and suggested that htey start.

Kenma found himself engrossed in the groove of the practice in no time. He practiced serving for Yaku and Bokuto, who both praised his ability. Being around them was a tiring task in itself. Yaku was careful and analytic, and seemed to appreciate Kenma’s focus very much. The other boy, Bokuto, was wildly different-- emphasis on wild. His spikes were precise and crisp, but had a 50/50 chance of completely missing its proper place. He smiled at Kenma, whether he completely messed up a set or delivered it perfectly. His optimism was relentless, and his kindness only emphasized his child-like demeanor. Next to Yaku, who was calm and logical, Bokuto looked like an overgrown child. While Yaku pointed towards which direction for Kenma to go, Bokuto came behind him and gave him an encouraging shove.

“Kenma! Toss for me?” Kuroo asked as Kenma had finished practicing receiving. Kuroo had been over practicing his blocks, and already buzzed with excitement and adrenaline. The devious expression was back on his face, but it looked as though it were in anticipation of what was to come. Kenma found himself admiring that.

“Sure. Are they going to join us, then?” Kenma replied, gesturing to Bokuto andYaku. Kuroo nodded and beckoned them over, and they positioned themselves on the court.

Bokuto would serve from across the court, Yaku received and attempted to pass the ball to Kenma, who would serve it for Kuroo’s spike. The process was grueling and irritating, if anyone asked Kenma. Bokuto’s serves were sloppy, and Yaku tried to desperately to accommodate, but even if he did receive the ball, Kenma felt intimidated and unprepared for the passes, and could very scarcely find himself able to pass the ball on. However, after shouts of encouragement and Kenma trying desperately not to embarrass himself, the puzzle pieces fell together. Bokuto’s serve sailed gracefully over the net, and Yaku was in position for the serve, and hit the ball to where Kenma was. Kenma was ready for it this time. He barely touched the volleyball, letting it glide right in Kuroo’s line of vision. Kuroo lept, as if the ball had been set out on a silver platter perfectly for him, and slammed the ball down on the other side of the net.

“Hell YEAH!” Bokuto cheered. “Nice serve, Kenma!’

Kuroo said nothing, but looked down at Kenma, breathing heavily. His eyebrows perked up, surprised, but clearly pleased with his work. Bokuto nudged Kuroo with a smile on his way to get a drink, and Kuroo nudged his arm back.

“Hey, get the first years and everyone else over here for me, yeah?” Kuroo asked Bokuto. Bokuto gave him a mini salute and yelled at the team to hustle in.

“What’s going on?” Kenma asked.

“You’ll see.”

Soon Kenma stood among the Nekoma team, who chattered amongst themselves and drank from their water bottles and buzzed with the energy of a new school year. Kuroo stood in front of their line, proud and tall, next to the same girl who had greeted him at the door.

“Alright, everyone listen up!” Kuroo said, and a hush fell over the group. His stoic face lasted just a moment, before his eyes raked from one end of the team to the other. “I believe we’ve all been introduced and gotten warmed up properly. I just want to convene before we met the competitive team, especially with some of our new members. If this is your first year at Nekoma Academy, and with this team, I want to congratulate you. The fact that you’re here already shows that your skills are exceptional,” his eyes flick over to Kenma, and the second year feels himself shrink a bit more. “As Captain, I want to refine your skills even more. I want you to look at any of the people to your left and right, and be able to trust and rely on them. I want you to look at our opponents tonight. They are your friends and can be good practice partners. And they may always be one step ahead us. That’s why it’s important that we make every practice worthwhile. Because even if we’re up against our friends, who always seem to be better, we will better ourselves.”

The first years looked around the gym, at Kuroo, at Bokuto, at the ceiling. Curious. Nervous. Kenma stood as still as a statue, his eyes fixated on the Captain. What did he mean by that? Why did it matter so much how they played in comparison to Shouyou’s team? Why did he care so much?

“Remember one thing while we’re playing out there,” Kuroo continued, his tone steady and serious. “We are the blood in our veins. We must flow without stopping. Keep the oxygen moving and your mind working.”

 _What the hell does that even mean?_ Kenma hardly had the chance to wonder before Kuroo grinned at the group deviously.

“And what better way to get the oxygen flowing than laps around the gym? Go, go, go!” He yelled, shooing everyone to run. Kuroo himself ran with them, laughing at any grumbling or complaints and telling them that every puff of air they wasted was another lap.

“Alright, everyone, Daichi’s team should be coming in a couple of minutes. Remember the match is just for a fun time, don’t get too discouraged if they crush us,” Kuroo encouraged them as the last team members jogged to a stop. The boys, chests heaving, let out a half-assed cheer.

As Kuroo predicted, in a matter of minutes, more boys wandered into the gym, including Hinata, who waved excitedly to Kenma. Kenma’s captain greeted one of the other boys’ captain hello, who Kenma presumed was Daichi. They bounced friendly banter off of each other, which told him that the two were well acquainted. The competitive team consisted of students of all ages, from first years to taller, stronger third years.

Kenma almost turned to go back to his teammates, when he caught sight of a head of combed, dark brown hair paired with mischievous eyes, and Kenma felt the barely-formed foundation of his security shake.

 

Daishou Suguru, former leader of the same group that bought cheap pocket knives and cheap insults to their fights in the wasteland of Makuro, stood in the flesh, bouncing off jokes and banter with the other members of the Nekoma competitive volleyball team.

 

Not even his uniform or relaxed shoulders could turn Kenma’s attention away from the memory of Daishou standing in front of his house, watching with scheming eyes as Kenma tried to hide bottle after bottle spilled on his front yard. It couldn’t shift Kenma’s attention from the memory of Daishou throwing down Lev’s volleyball bitterly, muttering slurs and swears at Kenma. It didn’t shift his attention to those same fiery eyes that met Kenma’s, and gleamed with a past neither of them dared dwelling on.

Kenma thought he was out of his life for good when Daishou moved schools, leaving his group of so-called friends, but he had no idea it was to _this_ school. Kenma cursed. _Not here, not here, not here._ He prayed that Daishou wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t approach him.

But to no avail.

“Kozume? Holy shit,” Daishou purred, strutting over to Kenma from the other side of the net. They were alone, the other teams distracted by each other. His eyes were aglow, pleasantly surprised at the turn of events. “What brings to this lovely school?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Kenma commented, refusing to look him in the eyes. He had to be cautious. He had to make sure his past wouldn’t come to bite him. “I knew you moved, but I didn’t know it was here.”

“Why do you look surprised? I just pulled some strings, got a scholarship, and made it big. I think I fit in quite well, don’t you think? Much better than some amateur club at a run down rat hole, right?”

“Stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Oh I don’t think I am,” he shrugged, and smiled. “I take it your transition has been a bit bumpier? Do any of these guys even know where you’re from? _Who_ you’re from?”

“That’s not their concern, and it will never be.”

“Got it,” Daishou smiled the kind of smile that cut through metal and made little kids cry. “If I had no self restraint, I’d challenge you, you and I, one on one, just like old times.” That was an exaggeration. Kenma never quite engaged in his “challenges”. Daishou just loved to get physical with anyone he could lay his grubby hands on. “Now, as far as that goes, you’re right. No one has to find out, and they won’t. You just stay out of my way, yeah?”

“You’re threatening me,” Kenma confirmed. “I won’t interfere with your life as long as you do the same. Don’t forget, Daishou, we’re from the same dump.”

“Daishou!” the boy named Daichi approached them, interrupting their conversation. Daichi ruffled Daishou’s hair and gave him a light push. “Stop intimidating the competition, you idiot,” Daishou grumbled about leaving, but gave Kenma one last smile before returning to his teammates. Daichi sighed. “Don’t mind him. Daishou’s a sore loser, even before he actually loses.”

Boy, did Kenma know that. Fights weren’t the only history the two of them had. Just a year prior, Daishou attempted to join Kenma’s makeshift volleyball team with Lev and Yamamoto, but had been turned down on account of being unable to work properly as a team member, and for constantly taunting Lev. Whenever the boys were in fights, they always seemed to be on opposite sides. Kenma wondered just how he made it into Nekoma, much less on their competitive team.

As Daichi wandered away to organize his team, Kuroo and Kenma made their way to where their team was. Kenma glanced over his shoulder a couple of times. Daishou should have disappeared to any other school, anywhere in Japan, but Nekoma just _had_ to be his choice. If Kenma so much as breathed the wrong way now, Daishou would know. And any secret he could find out made for adequate blackmail in the future, if he truly felt it necessary. Kenma would do everything in his power to stay as far from Daishou as he could.

“Alright, this is our starting formation,” Kuroo showed a chart with boxes scribbled on it as the team gathered around. Kenma shifted his focus back to the task at hand. “I need Bokuto, Yaku, Ennoshita, Tsukkishima, and Kenma to start us off. We’ll switch off a few times, but for now, you all can come with me.”

Kenma placed himself on the right side of the court, and faced off with his opponents. A slew of skilled players stood before him, their faces composed and prepared. They were far above the team Kenma was on, it was in their very name. But he decided to dismiss such thoughts, and focus the way he did in their practice time. And when the whistle was blown, he was ready for them too.

Being in an actual competition was a lot more challenging than Kenma had anticipated. Whether it was for fun or not, Daichi’s team did not hold back. Their main spiker, Iwaizumi, was a force not to be reckoned with, slamming down ball after ball. This was met, however, with the recreational team’s shaky, but defined defense. Each pass shook Kenma to the very core. As if the idea of strangers depending on him was already distracting enough, Daishou’s piercing stare seemed to read Kenma whenever he moved.

“Don’t lose concentration!” Kuroo shouted encouragement to his team. One round had passed, and another was coming to an end. Sweat dripped down Kuroo’s forehead as he tried to keep his new teammates together, looking to Bokuto for some sort of reassurance.

Kenma could see the exhaustion and discouraged looks on the others’ faces, and knew that the match would not end in their favor. But, he would do anything to wipe that smug grin off of Daishou’s face, so Kenma looked for Kuroo behind him for one last push. The volleyball was in the air on their side as Kuroo and Kenma made eye contact. They made the connection, and Kuroo burst forward towards the net. Kenma side stepped to get directly beneath the volleyball, and gently pushed it away from his fingertips, and into Kuroo’s custody.

Not a word was spoken when the black haired boy slammed the ball down, a direct spike that landed with a slam on the other side. The whistle blew. 23-23.

“Two more points!” Kuroo called to the rest of the team, excited. He gave Kenma a giddy smile, and he smiled back. _They had a chance._

 

They didn’t stand a chance, in fact. Daichi’s team turned out to perform well under pressure, And they were one point ahead in no time. Their captain’s eyes burned with determination, challenging the values and stance of the recreational team. Daichi led the others to do this too, and Kenma swore that they could have won by intimidation alone. But mostly, they gained advantage through Daichi’s powerful spiking abilities.  

 _Again_ , Kenma thought, his heart racing with anticipation. _I have to toss like that again._ And for the second time, Kenma looked for the ball, now sailing overhead, and time slowed down. Very carefully, Kenma calculated the precise timing that Bokuto would need based on his speed and height. Bokuto looked at Kenma, alive, alert, and ready to get them one point ahead. It was in Kenma’s hands to get Bokuto there.

      And then it was in Bokuto’s, and time went back to normal speed. Bokuto smiled wide, absolutely ecstatic as he reeled back to deliver a spike. Three of the competition team’s best blockers lept, towering at Bokuto’s height. And when the salt and pepper haired boy hit the volleyball with immense force, he was met by Daishou’s arm, extended outwards, and completely blocking the volleyball from the other side. All was quiet as they were met with failure, and the ball fell to the ground, and Kuroo, Kenma, and Yaku dove to save it, but to no avail. The referee blew the whistle.

 

25-23. Nekoma’s Competition team won.

Kenma wouldn’t describe how he felt as disappointment. In fact, he along with the rest of the team let out a sigh of relief as the game came to a close. Kuroo grimaced to himself, but the original smile Kenma had first spotted him sporting soon grew back on his face. He was asserting himself as their captain, and patted the first years on the back and congratulating them. Kenma stumbled past Kuroo and to the side to find his water bottle, and drank it as a reward for himself. He had never been in such an intense game before.

As he felt his heart rate return to normal, Kuroo approached him, who, despite the loss, glowed with pride.

“We’ve never played that close of a game before,” Kuroo said, breathing heavily. He looked at Kenma and grinned. “Can you toss like that all the time?”

Kenma nodded, taken aback, and Kuroo sat on the bench with him for as long as the two felt comfortable. Kenma focused his eyes on his water bottle, directing his glance only once at Daishou. He was right. He did fit right in, even if Kenma didn’t. But that didn’t change anything.

_I know exactly who you are._

-

After cooling down, Kuroo wandered across the court, to where Daichi waited for him, glowing proudly.

“I’ll admit it, you guys did incredible,” Kuroo said, nudging Daichi in the shoulder.

“And I’ll admit I was surprised at the team of yours.I’m already looking forward to this season,” Daichi said happily, and then gave Kuroo a suspicious look. “ And I presume you are too. That new setter of yours. Is that the one Bokuto told me you fell in love with while watching his audition tape?” Kuroo felt a pang of irritation.

“Bokuto has no place saying it like that _. What about Akaashi?_ ” Kuroo defended. Besides, it wasn’t like Kuroo was _in love_ with Kenma. He just had a very fond fixation with the way the younger boy played volleyball. It was just a little crush. Nothing like the way Bokuto cried because Akaashi’s Instagram selfies were so beautiful.

“That is true. Bokuto took no time at all to ask Akaashi on date after date,” Daichi snorted. “Well since he just transferred here, why don’t you invite him to one of our game nights? That way you have more foundation before having the same fate as Bokuto.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kuroo grinned, absentmindedly watching his team before a nagging thought disrupted his peaceful feelings. “Say, Daichi? What was Daishou doing talking to Kenma? Are they friends or something? Or was Daishou talking shit again?”

“I didn’t overhear anything, but it looked like he was just introducing himself, Kenma didn’t seem phased at all by him,” Daichi shrugged, but Kuroo didn’t feel quite satisfied with the answer. Perhaps it was how Daishou could always get under his skin without fail, or just a gut feeling, but Kuroo couldn’t help but be suspicious.

“Really, Kuroo, he’ll be fine. I’ll keep my eye on Daishou, you worry about getting yourself a hot date,” Kuroo’s friend patted him on the shoulder and ended their conversation, leaving Kuroo alone with his thoughts and a gym to be cleaned.

As Kuroo set away his things quickly, and as soon as the floored practically gleamed, he ran outside the gym. After a bit of searching, he managed to find Kenma near a fountain, busily clicking buttons on his Gameboy. Kuroo ran over to him, slightly out of breath. Kenma looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you need?” he asked, still clicking buttons despite having his eyes on Kuroo.

“I was cleaning the gym when I just had a thought,” Kuroo said. “Bokuto, Daichi, Yaku, Yamamoto and I are gonna all head over to Daichi’s dorm and play video games tomorrow. You wanna come?”

“Play video games with you?” Kenma blinked. He bit his lip thoughtfully… “Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Great! Daichi’s room is 314D. I’ll see you then!” Kuroo smiled, giving Kenma a salute, and promptly jogging to his own dorm. Kenma packed his bag and pouted.

“I never said I’d go,” he mumbled, slinging on his backpack to go back to his room.

* * *

 

Kenma had a change in heart so to say. Two hours later, he stood in front of 314D, the source of a lot of yelling was. Heaving a sigh, Kenma knocked on the door and waited. More noise, followed by the muffled sound of footsteps. Kuroo swung open the door excitedly, and Kenma had to step back a bit.

“Glad you could make it, Kenma, come in!” he said. Kenma stepped inside and wanted to run away. In the center of the room, Yaku and Bokuto were scrambled on the floor. Bokuto was ensnared in a full nelson by the former, and Yamamoto waved money around, cheering on both sides. Daichi sat in the corner with a fistful of cash and eyes full of disappointment. This was going to be an awful evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a goddamn monster to write, but I'm glad I took my time with it, tbh. When I first drafted this up it was AWFUL, but I gave it to Emma to edit anyways and left it alone for a while before coming back to it, editing again, rereading, adding, editing, rereading, and finally adding the finishing touches. I'm excited to introduce all the members of the teams! The song I linked is from the Doctor Who soundtrack, which I only recently started listening to again. It's real nice motivational music.  
> Big thanks to my beta, Emma, for being honest and pointing out all my errors! I love you to the moon and back!!! :o


	4. Work and Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some d00ds spend some quality d00d time together also Saeko arrives on the scene.
> 
> "Honey Whiskey" by Nothing But Thieves makes nice bg music for this chapter.

“Well, boys, it was nice being friends with you,” Bokuto said as he flipped open a case with a disc inside. The cover read “Mario Kart” in bold, colorful letters. “But it’s that time of night again.”

Kuroo cracked his knuckles and smiled deviously. “Prepare for an ass kicking, Bokuto. Who else is in?”

“I’ll need to chaperone,” Daichi raised his hand..

“Alright, one more player? How about you, Kenma? Ever played Mario Kart?”

“No,” Kenma admitted, provoking at least three scandalized gasps.

“Never?!” Bokuto gaped.

“You’re missing out, man,” Yamamoto said.

“Oh c’mon this is gonna be brutal, you all have been playing since you were eight, you can’t gang up on him,” Yaku said, but Kenma just shook his head.

“Just tell me the controls,” he said. Daichi, Kuroo, and Bokuto looked at each other. Kuroo beamed proudly.

“So determined,” he said, and scooched closer to Kenma. “Okay, so this button here is acceleration, and _this_ one is for throwing random shit you pick up in the game…”

“This won’t end well for Kenma,” Bokuto said, shaking his head, but Daichi scoffed.

“Don’t doubt him too soon, let’s just see how this goes,” he commented.

“Alright, but I’m not going easy on him!”

 

Ten minutes and four rounds of racing later an animated Koopa Troopa stood on the first place pedestal. Three third year boys sat back, dejected and mildly horrified, while Kenma munched on chips. Daichi’s room was dead silent.

“He beat all of us,” Bokuto whimpered.

“By almost a minute. On his first try!” Kuroo shook his head. “Kenma, how the hell did you do that?”

“I haven’t played _this_ game before, but I’m not a dumbass to the mechanics of racing games,” he shrugged. Kuroo shook his head, amazed, while Yamamoto laughed and Daichi ruffled his hair.

“Only your first few days and you’re already kicking everyone’s ass,” Daichi said. “I’m so proud.”

“Speaking of your first days, Kenma, how’s everything been going?” Yaku asked, while Bokuto distributed controllers. “This is your first year here, right?”

Kenma shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. This place is a lot different than my old school, all that homework included.”

“I suppose the administration gave you the old first year treatment,” Kuroo added.

“Yeah, you have to endure first year introduction garbage like lectures on the rules and regulations because you weren’t here last year, bro. And this year you probably have only one roommate. But next year, you could live in a quad like us,” Bokuto said. “We won’t treat you like a first year, so don’t worry about that.”

“Speaking of which, Kuroo, you seem rather focused on training that first year, Tsukishima,” Yaku said.

“The boy seems completely indifferent to everything I say,” Kuroo huffed, eating more kettle corn. “I am determined to make him care.”

“How noble of you,” Yaku said. “No hazing now.”

“No, no hazing. I’ll just passive aggressively trap him into the gym and practice with him. That’s bound to get us somewhere.”

“Have you seen his death glare, though? Gives me chills.” Bokuto said.

“Challenge accepted.”

The group of boys laughed, and Kenma ghosted a smile. He played with the controller and all it’s trinkets, secretly wanting to play another round of Mario Kart. The last time he had beat anybody in a multiplayer game was when he used to game with Lev and his other friends on his old gaming system. They’d cry and pout and elbow Kenma and claim it was unfair, but always challenging him to a rematch again and again.

He remembered torturing Clarence with them and stuffing small bags of food in his pocket, running through alleyways to lose the irritated clerk. He was there to back them up in a fight and there to be their captain and coach and setter in every game of volleyball. They’d called on Kenma when discovering the art of spray paint to look and see if anyone saw them under the bridges or by the train. Lev loved making lotus flowers, and admittedly, his creations were beautiful. If they were ever caught they’d run and run until they were sure they’d escaped the local cops or any other adult that hated kids like them. The rush he had gotten from that was so miniscule, but enough to get him through the day. It was his way of having fun, and comparatively, his team now seemed so harmless.

He wondered if Nekoma would become boring, if he would lose motivation and get kicked out. He imagined the disappointed look on Kuroo and Daichi’s faces as he’d tell them that he was dropping out, that he didn’t belong-

“So what do you say, Kenma?” Bokuto asked. “Do you think you like it here?”

Kenma looked up, embarrassed that he had tuned out, and the group was staring at him expectedly. He saw Kuroo looking at him, his cool look ever so slightly riddled by a bit of nervousness. Really? Had it only taken him a few days to leave an imprint on this group? If he left, would they actually miss him? What if he didn’t want to leave?

“Yeah,” Kenma said. “I think I do.”

Yamamoto slapped Kenma on the back, and the rest grinned. They then dove into a conversation about new teachers, and Bokuto’s cranky homeroom teacher who smelled like tuna. Yamamoto grabbed a controller and personally challenged Kenma to a rematch on Daichi, Bokuto, and Kuroo’s behalf. Kenma accepted, and once again won a round of Mario Kart.

++

Kenma decided to head back to his room that night, waving goodbye to the others who decided to sleep in Daichi’s room instead. He whispered about what he had done that night to Hinata from his bed, and the orange haired boy lay with his his head propped up on his hands, eyes wide.

“That sounds incredible! So you think you’ll hang out with the captains a lot then?” he asked, and Kenma shifted under his blankets, his Game Boy resting on his chest.

“I don’t know. I think I want to, but I doubt I’ll have the time, I gotta find a job.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re looking for a place to work, Tanaka tells me that his sister has this bookshop in town, and she needs a little help,” Hinata said. “She’s has a couple of volleyball players work for her before, too.”

Kenma focused his eyes on Hinata in the dark. Maybe it would be a good idea, going to the bookshop, if she understood the needs of a volleyball player. But what if she didn’t like Kenma? What if he was too quiet or bad at his job? He’d miss his chance before he even got one and would end up doing dishes somewhere. What if he messed up the whole bookstore? Maybe it would be better if he didn’t apply for a job. But he needed to. But he didn’t want to.

“I guess I’ll ask Tanaka about it, then,” Kenma said, and let Hinata take over the conversation while he drifted off to sleep.

++

“Are you still playing that game?” Kuroo asked, peeking over Kenma’s shoulder. He tapped the buttons aggressively. Kenma nodded as his little character jumped and dodged fireballs. He grunted angrily when his health deteriorated until the bundle of pixels made quite a scene out of dying. Their team sat on the bleachers cooling down from a long practice. Kenma’s gaming had drawn the attention of a few of his teammates, who peeked over his shoulder to watch. Kuroo had planted himself by Kenma’s side, the most involved of all of them.

“Here I thought you would’ve beaten it a long time ago,” Kuroo shook his head teasingly. Kenma narrowed his eyes, and pushed the Gameboy in Kuroo’s lap.

“You do it, then,” Kenma said. Kuroo’s grin wavered.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he said, laughing nervously. Kenma pushed it harder towards him. “Oh, c’mon, Kenma, you know I’m no good at those kinds of games, you can beat the boss just fine, I’m sure!”

“I want to see you try it,” Kenma insisted. Yamamoto took interest just then, and peered over Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Kuroo, let’s see it,” he said, and Kuroo, groaned, outnumbered.

“Fine, fine,” he caved, taking the Gameboy in his hand and pressed the button to start. A tremendous, pixelly monster appeared on screen, the character Kuroo played dwarfing in comparison. Quick as lightning, fireballs shot from the creature’s mass. Kuroo navigated his character across the screen, dodging the fireballs. All was well, that is until the fireballs began to follow him. Kuroo flinched in alarm as he furiously tapped the buttons, hoping to shoot the fireballs. However, this ended when he ran his character directly into the massive monster, and the cluster of pixels shivered and fell off the screen.

_You died._

“You’re kidding me,” Kuroo whimpered.

“Would you like to try again, Kuroo?” Kenma asked cooly. Kuroo handed him the Gameboy back in shame, Yamamoto patting him on the back pitifully. Kenma leaned back, pressing the start button to attempt the level again, with Yamamoto and Kuroo watching. He dodged and maneuvered on the screen as Yamamoto and Kuroo went into their own conversation.

“Any plans for summer break, yet?” Yamamoto asked Kuroo from the other side of Kenma.

“Not yet. I don’t really want to go home, so maybe I’ll stay here and just relax for a while, yeah?”

“How about the beach?”

“Too far. I’m not willing to indulge your leering towards the female population, either.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No. I like it here in the summer. What are your plans, Kenma?” Kuroo asked, interrupting Kenma’s concentration. He kept his eyes locked on the screen just as well.

“Isn’t it a little early to be thinking about summer vacation?” he mumbled.

“Well, yeah, but it’s something to get the mind off of schoolwork, you know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to waste my time travelling home that much. I guess I’ll just stay here and work.”

“Just working? How about you come to the beach with me and Tanaka, Kenma?” Yamamoto suggested, elbowing him lightly with a cheesy grin. Kenma grimaced back.

“No, really, I have work,” Kenma said, though he didn’t exactly like it. He thought of what Hinata had said earlier, about the book shop, and Tanaka’s sister. “Yamamoto, you know Tanaka well, right?”

“We’re only the best of bros,” Yamamoto said, putting a hand to his heart dramatically.

“Right… doesn’t he has a sister who owns a bookshop? Saeko, or something like that..” Yamamoto’s face lit up.

“Saeko-san! Yeah I know her!” he said excitedly. “She’s so cool! She’s got this motorbike and _once gave Tanaka and I rides and-”_

“Do you know where her shop is?” Kenma cut in. “I, uh, heard she needed help.”

“Well, sure, I’ll text Tanaka-san,” Yamamoto said, pulling out his phone.

“You’re applying to a bookstore?” Kuroo asked. Kenma nodded.

“I could… use the extra cash, I guess,” Kenma said. He needed the money if he was going to get nicer clothes, groceries for the summer, for university.

“Here’s the address,” Yamamoto showed Kenma his phone. Setting down his Gameboy, Kenma punched the address into his phone. He’d find the store the following day when they had off from school and practice.

“Give Tanaka-san my thanks,” Kenma said, and Yamamoto gave a salute.

++

“You have nothing to worry about, you know,” Kuroo said, strolling next to Kenma down the city streets. It hadn’t been Kenma’s decision to bring Kuroo along, he had just told him that he could show Kenma the train station and where the shop was exactly, claiming it was his “duty as captain to give guidance to all team players”. Kenma had grumbled that he could find it on his own just fine, but had let him come along anyway.

“I’m not worried,” Kenma claimed, hiding his fingers in his pockets to keep from wringing them.

“Yes you are,” Kuroo smiled knowingly.

“Am not”

“Are too.”

“Am _not.”_

“Are too. Hey look- here it is!” Kuroo pointed to an old looking building with dark grey panelling and a slightly faded sign that said _Books._ Kenma’s stomach churned.

“Here goes nothing I guess,” Kenma gulped.

“Good luck in there, you got this! I’ll be out here when you’re done,” Kuroo nudged Kenma in the side and Kenma nodded, looking back only once at Kuroo when he walked towards the door, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Kenma cracked the door open slightly, poking his head inside. The book shop wasn’t at all what he expected. Shelves adorned the place, of course, but most everything on it was in disarray. Books were stacked in multiple different fashions on the shelves, most in a rather unorthodox fashion. Boxes sat here and there with books piled high inside that didn’t look to be in any particular order. A front desk with a cash register sat to his left, where a figure was hoisting one of the many boxes on top with a grunt. A head of blonde hair peered up at him, fit with a slightly more feminine, older version of Tanaka-san’s face.

“Come in, come in, don’t be intimidated!” she shouted above the sound of a rather large fan blowing in the corner, not to mention the muffled sound of rock music coming from the back room.  Kenma slid inside, confused among all the chaos. The owner, presumably Saeko, put her hands on her hips, and huffed a strand of hair out of her face with a smile. “How can I help you today?”

“I, uh,” Kenma stammered, gathering his composure. There was so much about the place to take in. He could do this. “I’m Kenma Kozume. I heard that you were looking for some help around here? I’d like to apply.”

Saeko smiled even wider, she leaned closer to get a better look at Kenma.

“Oh! You’re the one my brother and his little friend called about! Yeah, you’re on one of the Nekoma volleyball teams, right?”

“Yes,” Kenma nodded. He wished she would just hand him an application already. Saeko seemed to realize this and leaned down, fetching a piece of paper stacked in the desk. She slid it towards him, and Kenma looked at the application.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kenma. Call me Saeko. Tell me Kenma, how do you feel about doing a bit of lifting and organizing?” she asked. Kenma shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Kenma said. “Really, any work is fine with me, as long as I can help out.”

“Good, this place could use that. And selling people books? Just working with register and makin’ sure you charge ‘em the right amount and putting a book in a bag. That’s not too challenging, is it?” she popped an eyebrow upwards and Kenma smiled.

“Somehow I think I’d manage,” he replied. She nodded. It was somehow reassuring how laid back Saeko was.

“I get that you have practice and everything, is there any other clubs that you have going on?”

“Just volleyball and homework,” Kenma replied.

“Well that’s just dandy. School comes first, of course,” Saeko replied, sliding him the application. “You can sit right at that desk in the corner and fill out the application. I’ll be around. I got a truckload of donations the other day and they’ve gotta fit _somewhere._ ”

“Thanks,” Kenma said, sitting where she had suggested. He filled out the application carefully, tapping his foot softly to the radio. He liked Saeko already, and he was sure that in just a few shifts he’d get used to working. Kenma scribbled down Coach Nekomata’s name and telephone number as a reference, wondering if the old man still thought of him. It had been well over a month, after all.

In a matter of minutes, he had finished filling out everything he needed to, and set the piece of paper on the front desk. Saeko came bustling through a back door with an empty box, and picked up the application.

“Thanks a bunch, Kenma,” she winked at him. “It was good to meet you. I call you in some time to let you know what we think. Sound good?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Kenma said, giving her a small smile and remembering what he had read about applying for a job. “Thanks for the opportunity.”

Kuroo was waiting for him outside, the sky beginning to get darker. The two walked to the train station, and Kenma told him about Saeko and the chaotic bookstore. If he got this job, he’d certainly have his work cut out for him. Kuroo smiled like he knew something Kenma didn’t, as per usual, and Kenma pointedly ignored him, changing the subject to who they’d be playing against next week.

The pair boarded the train and took two empty seats, lucky to just have missed rush hour. Kenma pulled out his Gameboy and played as Kuroo rambled about the players on their opponent’s team and what they’d need to look out for. Kenma only half listened, mostly thinking about the dead weight that had left his chest since he left the bookstore. He was grateful that Kuroo came with him, even if he was a demanding captain and a loud friend.

Kenma wondered how so much had happened in such a small period of time. He was whisked away to a foreign, unfamiliar world, surrounded by strangers in a strange school. And he was being pushed more than ever before. He had to keep up with his schoolwork if he wanted to stay there, he had to perform his best at volleyball- not just because of the scholarship, but the _push push push_ that Kuroo and the other third years put on him as well as the rest of the team. He didn’t understand it, they weren’t even a competitive team. Sometimes he wanted to quit. But at the end of the day, he’d take the pressure if it meant some of the luxuries that came along with it. Yes, for all the work he had put in, he didn’t have to feel guilty about being at such a prestigious school, or being surrounded by people who were determined to be his friend.

He was allowed to want this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there you have it! Lots of obstacles with this chapter- the holidays, a solid month of writer's block, college apps, and sometimes just opening up the document and thinking "this just doesn't work". I finally managed to sit my ass down this week and sort out what parts of this chapter worked and what didn't. Needless to say... this chapter was totally different 24 hours ago! But I'm finally pleased with the pacing and flow.  
> 


	5. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boarding school gets overwhelming for Kenma.  
> Warnings for an anxiety attack. Starts at "It was there again" and you can ctrl + F to "In the midst of grounding himself". I was supposed to update with the cute ice skating chapter but that got botched oOPS
> 
> The song for this chapter is "About Today (warrior version)" by The National

**Kuro [9:23]:** _ Where should we meet tonight for homework? _

**Me [9:24]:** _ My room is fine. Can you bring your english stuff.  _

**Kuro [9:29]:** _ Sure! Bokuto and I might call an emergency practice today, by the way, for Saturday’s match and all. They’re tough customers. Do you work then? _

**Me [9:32]:** _ Oh. _

**Me [9:32]:** _ No. Saeko is having me come in tomorrow afternoon. _

**Kuro [9:33]:** _ Great. See you then. _

**Me [9:35]:** _ Yeah. _

 

The day had dragged on far longer than Kenma wanted, sitting through class as teacher after teacher droned on. He scribbled down notes, but could hardly bring himself to focus. His phone weighed heavy in his pocket, the idea of an extra practice both a relief and a dread. Weekend games with local competitive teams had meant that they got their asses kicked at first, but after a few months, they had seemingly come together more adhesively. Yamamoto had gotten less reckless thanks to Yaku knocking him down a few pegs on multiple occasions. Kenma familiarized himself with the needs of everyone he tossed to, their styles always so unique, but polished enough that he had to stretch to keep up. Even with all their hard work, when they lost, they got  _ beat,  _ earning the title “Nekoma punching bags” by one particularly cocky team.

Practices and games were grueling, and the train ride to Saeko’s book store was a prime opportunity for Kenma to rest his eyes, even if it was only for a few minutes. The phone call Kenma had received from Saeko came far faster than he thought, and the two had talked through a schedule to work out. Thanking his lucky stars that she was so flexible, Kenma was somehow capable of balancing out his job and volleyball.

It was the schoolwork that tipped the scale. 

Essays, algorithms, and reading, it was as though whenever Kenma sat in a desk, they’d pile another stack of papers for him to take back to his room. “To be at Nekoma is an honor in itself, and part of that honor is work” one of his teachers had said. It was bitterly ironic to Kenma that they seemed to be trying to work him right out of the school. He had had enough close calls with late assignments and barely complete homework that more than one teacher had given him a suspicious look. He hated the way the tips of his ears burned when he practically threw the papers at them and shuffled back to his desk. 

No matter what he did, he seemed to attract their eye, and the humiliation of it burned in his stomach and made his hands tremble when he got to practice as the fifth set of that day flew out of control and nowhere near where Kenma intended. The humiliation raged in him when Kenma caught the volleyball out of the air, and with a rush of adrenaline, threw it down.

The volleyball hit the ground with a satisfying slap, and Kenma stormed out of the gym as a hush fell over his teammates. It was there again. That goddamn feeling he got. TV static floated about his head, a swarm of thoughts and qualms, enough to give him tunnel vision. His heart quickened pace and the swarm thickened. Kenma thought of his grades, and the swarm scratched at his throat. Kenma thought of the ball slipping from his grasp mid game, and harsh laughter crackling through the air, and he wanted to cry. Or scream. Or take it out on a nearby vending machine. He remembered the first time he did that. He was 14. 

“No one would ever guess you had a temper like a goddamn nuclear meltdown just by looking at you, kid,” a police officer had told him, handing him the fine for damages. One look at the fine, and Kenma never damaged property again. At least, not according to his records. He remembered his heart pounding and chest constricting back then too.

Kenma didn’t remember wandering across the campus, fumbling with his keys, and stumbling into his room, but it didn’t matter to him. The cramped corner that he wedged himself into, between his bed and the wall, was a comfort and torture all in one. Nobody could find him here, and that was all Kenma wanted. 

The Gameboy was heavy in his hands as he pressed the On button and frantically tapped the controls. Pixels on the screen blurred together, and Kenma wiped his eyes and kept playing, the laundry list of burdens replaying itself over and over, and he prayed for relief.

_ Left, left, jump, Three assignments due tomorrow, A, left, jump. _

_ Would he keep his job? Right, right, left, jump, A, A, B, A. He doesn’t understand the math. He needs to serve faster. A, left, left. He needs to- _

Kenma gasped as sound rang out through the room, a sharp knock on his door threw him back into reality and the abhorrent realization that his entire central nervous system was revolting. He had homework for biology, that reminded him-

“Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice was a sickening twist in his stomach as he realized that  _ shit shit shit I walked out during practice and Kuroo’s come to kick me off the team-  _ “Kenma can I come in? You’re door’s, uh, cracked open.”

Kenma’s eyes closed in resigned dread, and when Kuroo received no verbal answer, the sound of the door creaking open and clicking closed announced his entrance. Kenma closed his eyes, dropping his Gameboy and drawing his knees up towards his chest. His hair draped in his face, blocking the world from his view. It was a dull comfort.

“Why’d you run off like tha- oh,” Kuroo’s stopped, and Kenma could sense him standing over him. Everything about the older boy then softened, “Kenma, you alright?”

Kenma clamped his lips shut and didn’t look at Kuroo. He cursed, whether it was at himself or Kuroo was unclear, and he bunched himself up tighter. He resisted the urge to grab his Gameboy and ignore Kuroo until he went away. It would be better than the reality he was stuck in.

“Kenma, you’ll suffocate if you keep tightening up. Look at me, I can help you,” Kuroo’s voice was bizarrely steady and clear, alien in the uncontrollable whirlwind of panic that constricted Kenma’s chest. 

“This is your fault,” he murmured, wondering if his heart would burst from working so rapidly. “You and your regimes. Just kick me out already.”

“Not a chance. You’re overwhelmed with school and practice,” he confirmed. “Is that right?”

Kenma stopped answering and gave up, sighing shakily and pressing his forehead against his knees.

“I need you to look at me, Kenma.”

Kenma’s head tilts upwards, and through his rat’s nest hair he can see Kuroo sitting across from him, eyebrows drawn together, but he smiles just for a moment when their eyes meet.

“Do you want to tell me about what’s going on?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma shrinks, shaking his head. Kuroo doesn’t lecture him, in fact, his expression is unchanging. “Okay. Breathe in, Kenma.”

His eyes fluttered to Kuroo, and then the poster on the wall, and his feet, and back to Kuroo, and he inhaled shakily, the pounding of his heart humming in his ears. He was in over his head.

“Now, out.”

He shuts his eyes and exhaled. Kuroo repeats, his soft voice blending with the blood rushing in Kenma’s ears and his loud, loud heartbeat, and his shallow breathing until all he can hear is Kuroo saying  _ breathe in, breathe out, you’re okay, breathe in.  _ It seems like years passed when Kenma’s eyes fluttered open, noticing that his hands stopped trembling. And though the chill of a panic still sat stubborn in his chest, his shoulders had relaxed, and the welcome sensation of control had returned. 

In the midst of grounding himself, Kenma looked up to see Kuroo still kneeled in front of him, as though he could sit there with Kenma for hours if he asked. Plain old Kuroo, who fought over the last granola bar with Bokuto, showed off his favorite red knee socks to match his uniform, and only ever got really angry when a teammate thought himself above the cooperation of a team. It was then he realized that he hadn’t left the gym that long ago, and Kuroo, their  _ captain  _ had left mid practice because of him.

“Practice. You left-” Kenma started, and Kuroo put up his hands.

“I told Bokuto to run some drills. There was only a few minutes left anyways.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t care-”

“I know,” Kuroo’s hand is on his, and Kenma inches closer, seeking whatever comfort he can get as he continues, “If you want, I can help you. But you gotta tell me what’s going on. And what I can do about it.”

School. Job. Home. Practice. Rinse and repeat and shuffle the order for fun. But Kuroo was there, half the time. Kuroo was supposed to be his friend, sharing his snacks with Kenma and talking about nothing in particular when Kenma wanted to just sit and say nothing- and the poor sap didn’t even know that much about Kenma. Half the time, Kuroo was there, there for Kenma and for their other friends, but for the entire time, Kenma had kept him shut out. He took a deep breath.

“I can’t keep up. I can’t keep up with everything,” Kenma shook his head. “I’m in over my head just being here.”

“Trying to keep up schoolwork and practice?”

Kenma nodded, “And work.”

“And that gives you anxiety.”

“I just want to drop out.” 

Kuroo thought for a moment, “You shouldn’t do that. Trust me.”

“What do you know?” Kenma bites his tongue.  _ Asshole. _

“A little bit about that,” he paused, thinking for a moment. “I have a story, if you want to hear it. It’s about how Daichi and I met.”

“Okay,” Kenma leans against his bedpost, gazing up at Kuroo. His captain smiled as he finally began to uncoil himself.

“I won’t bore you with my whole backstory. Basically, I was born into a pretty well off family. My parents have public faces as entrepreneurs, and having a child was just what they wanted, and what they thought they needed. They wanted a kid, but in reality, when I was born, they had no idea what to do with me. I wasn’t a business deal, I was a small child who wanted to teeth their 500 yen pens and vomit on their nice business suits. So they read a couple of outdated parenting books, and hired tutors, nannies, butlers,  _ anyone  _ who knew what to do with a child. Because no matter what they read up on,  _ they  _ didn’t.

“In any case, along came my third year of middle school. My parents read somewhere about adolescents being independent, but at that point I wanted their attention more than ever.”

“What does this have to do with Daichi?” Kenma asked. 

“Right. We’ll get to that. So I graduated middle school and was let into Nekoma, on the competitive team. My first year was a disaster. I started taking large leaps to get my parents’ attention. I flunked classes on purpose, called home, disrupted class, called home some more, and then one day I was so angry with myself that I lashed out at Bokuto. I punched him right in the jaw. Like a jackass.”

Kenma’s eyes widened as he listened, and watched Kuroo’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes flicker back and forth.

“We were both on the competitive team with Daichi at that point, and Daichi was very clearly going for captain in his next years. So was I. And when Daichi heard about what I did, he was goddamn furious with me. He said I didn’t deserve Bokuto as a friend, and he was right. He said I had no place on the volleyball team, and he was right again. He was a better friend for Bokuto than I was, but I was so wrapped up in my own problems that it took a long time for the guilt to hit me. For every act I put on, my parents got involved as little as possible. I went to counselors and more tutors. And each time they avoided an actual confrontation, I just got angrier.

“Finally, I got a letter in my dorm room. I was actually excited because I thought they were going to kick me out of the school. I thought I’d go home to my parents and they’d lecture me and yell at me and actually talk to me. Turns out they pulled a few strings to keep me at the school, but it came at a price. The letter was a warning, that if I continued failing my classes and being a nuisance, they’d hold me back a year. And then  _ everything  _ hit me at once. The classes I understood but failed anyways. The guilt of being an asshole to Bokuto. And I wanted to drop out, not get left behind. But with how my time at Nekoma had been going, even if I shaped up and became the perfect student the next day, I knew I wasn’t smart enough to catch up and be an adequate student. So I did what every stupid teenager does when they hate themselves- I isolated myself from everyone. 

“Then a week later, I was hiding in the gym after hours, rereading the letter and trying to figure out what to do, when I saw someone standing above me. I must’ve looked pretty pathetic, sitting there crying like a three year old. And Daichi was right there, standing over me with a volleyball in his hand, and you know what he said?”

Kenma remembered Daichi scrubbing Yaku’s hair and laughing. He had always guarded them with such care, it didn’t surprise him that Daichi would say something to get Kuroo out of the biggest rut.

“He said, ‘Man, at this point, beating you and becoming captain is gonna be easy’.”

Kenma raised his eyebrows. “He said  _ that _ ?”

“Yep. And you know what? It worked. From that day forward, I was determined to beat Daichi. We’d actually practice together to learn each other’s weaknesses. I got my grades back by begging to be tutored. Bokuto forgave me instantly, the giant softie. Somehow, Daichi and I became friends along the way. And I owe him so much for it.”

Kenma looked at his tennis shoes, seeing Daichi, Bokuto, and Kuroo standing around together, bickering and laughing and being a general nuisance. He couldn’t picture them in any other way. There had never been any thought as to what they might’ve been like before they were best friends.

“I’m not saying that my story is identical to what you’re feeling, and I certainly wouldn’t compare my bratty self to you. But I want you to know that when you feel overwhelmed, you’re not alone. Even today I have trouble keeping up sometimes. Old habits die hard, I guess,” Kuroo put his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, leaning a bit closer with a serious look in his eyes. “But if you’ll let me help you in any way, or give you any piece of advice, let me just say this. Don’t think you have to go this alone. We’re here to help if you need us to. Me, Bokuto, the whole team. You say the word and we’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Kenma nodded, and looked at Kuroo in the eyes. The other boy smiled, the worry vanishing from his eyes.

“Now, you want to look at the English assignment? I packed color coded note cards a girl in my class let me borrow,” Kuroo reached in his bag and pulled out a folder with white note cards clipped to it. He smiled proudly at his resourcefulness, and Kenma hid a smaile, standing up to get his backpack out. He felt raw and exposed as he slowly got to his feet, trying to assume normalcy after feeling so intensely, but with Kuroo rummaging through his folders and chattering about his classmates and assignments, it was as though nothing had ever happened. He was, in a way, better. 

It had become a habit for the two of them to meet talking about homework. It was probably Kuroo who was to be credited with Kenma’s passing in english class, and he managed to explain math in a way that Kuroo’s face lit up with realization that he most definitely didn’t get out of class. It was an exchange they had agreed upon after talking for hours after one particular evening practice- well, most of the talking was Kuroo groaning over his math class, anyway. 

It was originally supposed to be a one time event- but soon enough they’d fallen into a routine of doing it a couple times a week, and it always ended the same. Kuroo and Kenma, sprawled out on Kenma’s bed on top of finished assignments and papers, in a silent trace as Kenma played games on his Gameboy, his head rested against Kuroo comfortably, while the other boy played music on his phone. It was strange arrangement, and they were eventually joined by Hinata, collapsing on his bed across from them and peppering Kuroo with questions while Kenma finally managed to beat that level he’d been trying to get past.

 

This time, however, listening to the soft murmurs of Kuroo’s voice, Kenma drifted off to sleep. He didn’t mean it, but the day had taken so much out of him, he just couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He woke up to find the papers put away, Kuroo gone, and something soft draped over his shoulders that smelled faintly of Kuroo.

Tired eyes dragged across the dorm room, scanning for signs of life, and finding Hinata curled up on his bed on his phone. When the younger boy spotted Kenma, his lips pursed into a subdued smile.

“You’re tired today, aren’t you?,” Hinata whispered. Kenma gave a sleepy nod, losing the internal battle and shutting his eyes once again.

“You know what I think, Kenma? I think Kuroo really likes you,” Hinata said, but Kenma was already drifting back to sleep.


	6. Fight For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With summer break coming up, the Nekoma team is buzzing with excitement. But when Kenma and Kuroo make a jarring discovery, it could change everything as they know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooooo! I made a goal to publish this chapter within two months of 5, and I made it with two weeks to spare! Thanks y'all for staying with me so far, especially as a heavier plot starts to come in.   
> Songs for this chapter are "Send Me a Peach" from the Over the Garden Wall Soundtrack (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=452V2b9uFnY)  
> and "Naoko" from The Wind Rises soundtrack (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaQaUSj1hEo) for the second half or so.  
> Also check out my writing tumblr account for a piece of art I made for the chapter to celebrate the quick update! I'm approaching 100 kudos, and if I get there, I'll make another piece.  
> Once again, thanks to my awesome and wonderful beta Emma, without whom I can't post much of anything.

(He still sees him sometimes.

 

In the halls and at the gym. Slitted eyes meet his and Kenma goes back to knuckles on his face and hissed threats and a warning not to cross him, and the venom nearly stops his heart.

Daishou had bested him once, and Kenma had learned. They were both quick learners, when he thought about it- covered in dirt and blood and lies.

 

Kenma avoids his gaze.)

 

 

“Kenma,” Kuroo’s voice cut through the pleasant silence as a tiny crumpled up piece of paper hit Kenma’s forehead. He huffed and ignored Kuroo, continuing to scribble notes down on his bed. When he finished up a particularly long section (giving him immense amounts of satisfaction), yet another piece of paper landed in his lap, and his friend interrupted him yet again.

“Kenmaaaaaa,” Kuroo drew out his name, and Kenma didn’t dare give him the satisfaction of looking up. Kuroo seemed to give up after this, and Kenma continued jotting down his notes. That is, until he heard frantic scribbling, followed by a decently large sized piece of paper landed directly on his notes. Kenma grunted, annoyed, and opened it without looking up.

 

_ Can we get dinner now????? :’’’’) _

 

Without missing a beat, Kenma scribbled his response and threw it back in Kuroo’s general direction with more force than was necessary, and he resisted a grin when he heard Kuroo grunt, his target hit. His response had been simple and concise. 

 

_ Go away.  _

“Oh. I see how it is,” Kuroo whimpered, standing up off of Hinata’s bed. “I’ll just go then. I’ll leave.”

Kenma wrote down bullet points for his notes section, scanning the textbook carefully as he thought he heard the sound of his door opening.

“I’m going now.”

“...”

“I’m leaving. I’ll be all by myself. Farewell, Kenma.”

“M’kay.”

Finally, his door shut, and Kenma welcomed silence as he turned the page to his textbook. Almost finished with those damn notes, his stomach growled, a sharp reminder to work faster. He’d never say it out loud, but Kuroo was right to be hungry. The mess hall seemed like heaven to him at the moment.

“Lobotomy,” Kenma mumbled the word out loud to himself as he wrote down the definition, reciting it in his head. He’d need to remember that one. Just as he went back to reading the text, Kenma heard a muffled voice.

“Kenma?”

He ignored it, ignored it  _ very  _ loudly as he scratched out notes. He was on the last page when his door opened again and wily head of black hair poked inside.

“This is the part where you run after me and say ‘Wait Kuroo!’”

Kenma put down his notes. He walked to the door and finally acknowledged Kuroo, who smiled victoriously.

“You’re done? Hey- whoa!” he yelped as Kenma put out two hands and shoved the older boy out the door and down the hall. 

“No, but you stink. Go shower,” Kenma sniffed distastefully as Kuroo put all his weight against Kenma’s pushing. On purpose.

“But practice made me hungry!” he whined. His request fell on deaf ears as Kenma pushed harder.

“Move your fat butt and let me finish homework.”  
Kuroo finally moved towards the bathrooms, almost causing Kenma to lose his balance.

“Fine, fine,” he surrendered, hands up, strolling down the hall. He looked over his shoulder and winked at Kenma. “Knew you’d come back for me.”

Kenma grimaced, “As if.”

He walked back to his room and quickly finished the notes, and by the time Kuroo showered and came back knocking on his door, Kenma was already waiting, entranced by his Gameboy and trying to ignore his stomach growling.

They walked to the mess hall, Kuroo rambling about Bokuto wanting to go to some fair for summer break, and occasionally steering Kenma, who didn’t look up once, resulting in several close calls with door frames and beams. Walking between buildings, Kenma vaguely heard the sound of dozens of other students making their way to dinner, or chasing each other around outside. The excitement for the warm weather was tangible and electric, and though he was immersed in a level, Kenma did enjoy the warm air on his neck.

“If you ask me,” Bokuto said through mouthfuls of rice, as the pair sat down with dinner a minutes later. “We should have an entire period dedicated to napping. Kids have that, but don’t want it. We don’t have it, and we want it!”

“That would mean classes would have to go longer into the afternoon,” Yaku countered, nodding a hello to Kenma and Kuroo as they dug into their food, his voice raised just a bit over the chorus of other voices in the hall. “Unless we traded out a class for it.”

Bokuto thought for a moment, before replying, “English.”

“Bokuto, if you had your way, school would just be sleeping and volleyball,” Kuroo smirked.

“Bro, like you’re any different?”

“...Fair point.”

“How many more matches until break?” Yamaguchi asked Kuroo from across the table, seemingly bashful at speaking up in the first place. 

“Just one more this weekend,” he replied. “Then we’re done with games until break ends. And practices for that matter. But I’m  _ sure _ you’ll do plenty of practicing while I’m gone. You too, right Tsukishima?”

The blond didn’t look up from his dinner, “No.”

“Right. Good talk. Let me know when you perfect those blocks, then,” Kuroo just smiled, and Yamaguchi held back laughter. Tsukishima very determinedly glared at his dinner. Kenma watched quietly, knowing that Kuroo was very slowly wearing down Tsukishima, trying to get him to work one on one on improving his skills. The first year had definite potential, he just seemed determine to get through with the bare minimum. Kenma took another bite. Knowing Kuroo, he’d have Tsukishima wrapped around his finger in no time.

“What are  _ your  _ summer plans, Kenma?” Bokuto changed the topic, his shit-eating grin lingering. Kenma shrugged.

“Stay here. Work.”

“No going home?” Bokuto asked, innocently enough. But it still ensnared Kenma’s attention, the character on his Gameboy shivering and dying. His throat felt dry, and he grappled with excuses not to go home. He realized he hadn’t told them anything about his parents or home life. It was meant to be that way. He needed a lie.

“My parents are…” he paused, glancing up at their expectant faces, searching for skepticism. “My parents are out of town for a conference… or something. My mom’s an artist. And I’d rather work anyways than be bored all the time.”

“That blows,” Bokuto shrugged, accepting it easily. “Is your house far from here?”

“Uh… yeah. It’s in- Tokyo,” he decided. Good God, he was making up an entirely false identity, if only to stop Bokuto from asking questions.

“So, Bokuto, is your mom home this break?” Kuroo swooped to his rescue, and Kenma retreated back to his game, occasionally picking at his dinner.

“What’s it to you?” he challenged.

“Oh you know, just wondering,” Kuroo hummed innocently, but Bokuto snorted, disbelieving.

“You just like coming to my house because my mom spoils you, don’t you? I’m hurt, Kuroo.”

“I’m not denying it.”

“ _ Dude! _ ”

“Looks like you’ve been replaced as the favorite son, Bokuto,” Daichi materialized behind them, sitting down next to Kuroo. Bokuto did not take kindly to that.

“I’m the  _ only  _ son!”

“Soon Daichi and I will just replace you altogether,” Kuroo mused, looking pointedly at Daichi. “Dibs on his bed.”

“Dibs on his computer.”

“Dibs on his  _ dog. _ ”

“Dammit.”

“Fine! Daichi, I’ll take  _ your  _ mom _!”  _ Bokuto protested.

“No you won’t. I’ll have as many moms I damn well please,” Daichi retorted seriously. Bokuto immediately surrendered at his glare.

“Okay, you can have your mom.”

“You could always stay at Bokuto’s house, if you wanted,” Kuroo tilted his head towards Kenma, speaking so that only he could hear. “We’ll be there a lot. It’s a fun time.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Kenma shook his head.

“You wouldn’t be. He’d be ecstatic. His mom would be through the roof.”

“No thanks.”

Kuroo let up after that, trickling back into the main table’s conversion about cramming onto a train to Bokuto’s house, about his two younger siblings who always flung themselves at Kuroo the minute he stepped through the door. It was a familiar world he hadn’t yet touched, and despite the pleasant idea of just having one thing to do over the break, he couldn’t help but feel a particular pull to the idea of having somewhere to go, to be able to forget about what was necessary and what shift he would have next, and just sit on someone’s floor and play his games. He was receiving a direct invitation, and tempting as it was, everything he did during break would depend on Saeko. He had promised her many shifts and help with things that he simply couldn’t get done during his shorter shifts. It would be nice to have those out of the way.

After what seemed like hours, Kenma felt someone nudge him in the side. He looked up to see that most of his friends had left, and Kuroo’s dish was empty.

“You want to stop at the gym real quick? I think I left one of my textbooks there,” he said sheepishly. 

Kenma nodded, “Sure.”

Clearing their dishes, Kenma and Kuroo left the cafeteria, greeted by a set sun when they walked outside and towards the gym. Kenma glanced at some of the teachers standing around the pillars of the large building, talking and laughing with each other. He could never seem to get past the fact that they were always present, watching for students who sneak out past curfew or try to leave the campus during class hours. Each floor of rooms had one or two staff members that sort of acted like parents. Kenma hadn’t felt the need to seek them out, though they were nice people. Despite all the extra work and independence, it was abundantly clear that the school saw the students for as they were- still children.

The lights from inside the gym cast over the dark green, and Kenma was almost surprised at the lack of noise coming from inside. No late night practice, it sounded like. 

“Just through here,” Kuroo opened the door for Kenma, and they walked through a hallway and past Coach Ukai’s office, where they could hear the sound of him on the phone. Once inside, Kenma stood leaned against the door as Kuroo silently searched the bleachers, yelling triumphantly a moment later and holding up a thick textbook.

“Psychology class, can’t be missing this,” he grinned, waving the book and walking back over.

“Is that all?” Kenma asked. He nodded. They walked back out the gym doors, heading down the hallway, when Kuroo stopped in his tracks, Kenma almost bumping into him.

“What-” Kenma started, irritated, before Kuroo held up a hand, head cocked. Kenma listened with him, wondering what the holdup was. The only thing to be heard was Ukai in his office-”

“...This is absurd. Why would they even consider that?” he could hear Ukai’s voice from just yards away behind a door. Kuroo crept closer, Kenma gripping onto the hem of his jacket and following. “No. There are kids on that team,  _ good  _ kids, who are here because of that scholarship. What the hell do you think they’ll do if it’s disbanded?”

Kenma felt a chill go down his spine, getting wind of what he might be talking about. Disbanded. Team. Ukai sounded upset.

“I don’t give a damn about trophies, or anything like that. All of them are good enough to be on the competitive team, and I’m paying for these damn trips out of my pocket!”

Kenma felt sick to his stomach as Kuroo turned around to look at him, his face contorted in a way he had never seen before. For the first time, Kuroo looked scared.

“Yeah, you’ll call me back. This conversation isn’t over,” Ukai snarled, and the both of them jumped at the sound of a phone slamming down on the receiver. Before the idea of leaving even went through either of their minds, the door to Ukai’s office swung open, and the coach himself almost ran right into Kuroo with a startled cry. Kenma and Kuroo froze, looking wide eyed up at him in the dark hallway. Kenma clung to Kuroo’s jacket for dear life. Ukai took a moment to recognize them, before pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“Ah damn,” he breathed, looking frustrated, but thankfully not really at them. “How much did you hear?”

“What’s going to happen to my team?” Kuroo asked, his voice shockingly even. Ukai didn’t spare him any excuses.

“Administration isn’t seeing the benefits of the rec team. They’re not liking putting funding towards something that doesn’t bring in trophies or money or whatever,” he shook his head.

“That’s ridiculous. We’re winning more matches than ever. We go to training camps and… Jesus, we just play volleyball, isn’t that enough?”

“It should be. They can’t shut us down that easily, Kuroo. We’ll fight it, but it’ll take time.”

Kuroo looked at his feet, his fists clenched.

“What happens,” his teeth were gritted together. “To the people on the volleyball scholarship?” 

Ukai didn’t answer at first, the silence tense and thick. Kenma didn’t meet Ukai’s eyes, he stared at his tennis shoes, mind reeling. _ What was going to happen? What was going to happen? What was going to happen? _

“I don’t know,” Ukai admitted. “I think they’d have to re-audition for the competitive team.”

“This is insane,” Kuroo’s shoulder dropped.

“Don’t think it’s inevitable yet, Kuroo. There’s still plenty of time left in the school year.”

“I know, I just- I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I guess we shouldn’t tell anyone yet, then.”  
“No use raising panic. I can tell the team, but for now, this is just between the three of us,” Ukai said sternly, looking both of them in the eyes. “Can I count on you for that?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo said. Kenma nodded.

“Good. I won’t let them take away the Rec team. Now both of you, back to your rooms.”

Kuroo and Kenma hurried out the gym doors and back into the night. Kuroo dug his hands in his pockets, glaring at the pavement. Kenma stood at his side, waiting for him to speak. To say anything.

“I’m graduating this year,” Kuroo said simply. He cast Kenma a sad look. “You’ll still be here, though. If they take away the rec team, it’ll affect you.”

Kenma said nothing.

“Will you fight for it, Kenma?”

Kenma opened his mouth to respond, when he realized he had nothing to say. He didn’t know. He couldn’t keep up with the competitive team. Trying that would be a one way ticket home. But what Nekoma Academy did really wasn’t any of his concern. He wasn’t the type to fight for much of anything at all. Not even to have his team back in Makuro recognized. But even then, he could see how much his team wanted it. How they pestered their coach and really, genuinely tried to be a team worth noticing. Now, he had even more people who counted on him. Who saw the best in him even when he didn’t. And they’d more than just a few volleyball matches.

“I- I guess,” he stammered. Kuroo smiled a bit at that, but Kenma could still see sadness behind his eyes. For a brief moment, he hated the administration. Hated the school. This was their fault.

“C’mon,” Kenma said, pointing at the dorm building. “I want to go to bed. Why don’t you tell me about Bokuto’s house?”

That seemed to cheer him up a bit. They strolled across the grass, Kuroo telling Kenma in detail about what Bokuto’s mother looked like and how, since he was just a kid, she would make his favorite breakfast whenever he came to visit. His way of repaying her when he got older was cleaning for her. Cleaning the dishes, cleaning the living room and every mess he made, reaching in places where the kind woman couldn’t reach. He told Kenma about Bokuto’s father, a kind and boisterous with many of Bokuto’s mannerisms. He loved bear hugs and his son, but was rarely home due to work and travel. He was the father Kenma wished he had.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, where Kenma’s room was, Kuroo talked about his experiences bringing over Daichi for the first time, when they stopped in the hall, silent for a moment. Kuroo’s suite, which also housed Yamamoto, Yaku, and Bokuto, was on the fourth floor. 

“Well, thanks for coming to get my textbook with me.”

“It was no problem,” Kenma shrugged, and then remembered the conversation in the gym, wincing. “Er- I guess it  _ was  _ a problem.”

Kuroo laughed at that. Full and genuine, like they weren’t joking about the possibility of the very thing that had brought them together being disbanded. When Kuroo’s laughing spell subsided, he grinned, lopsided but tired, and ruffled Kenma’s hair.

“I see what you’re saying, no worries. See you tomorrow, Kenma,” he waved and ducked into the stairwell. Kenma listened to the sound of Kuroo’s footsteps clambering on the stairs, until he could hear them no more, and he headed back to his dorm. 

He was greeted in his room by Shouyou, who laid across his bed, texting on his phone. He smiled when Kenma walked in.

“Where’d you go, Kenma? I didn’t see you after dinner,” he commented. Kenma stripped off his jacket and shoes and sat on the bed next to Shouyou, finally feeling exhaustion from the day.

“To the gym. Kuroo needed his textbook,” Kenma paused, glancing sideways at Shouyou. He was a loudmouth, yeah, but he had proven to be quite good at keeping things private. Kenma sighed. “The school is thinking of disbanding the recreational team. We heard about that.”

Shouyou’s eyes bugged, his entire body quivering with emotion in a few seconds flat, “What?! They can’t do that!”  
“Don’t be so loud, Shouyou,” Kenma frowned. “I’m not supposed to tell anybody, but I overheard Ukai talking on the phone. They don’t like putting funding towards something that doesn’t bring back wins.”

“Kenma,” Shouyou replied, a whine in his voice. “They can’t just  _ do  _ that!”

“They plan on it,” he frowned. “But if we fight for it, there’s a possibility it’ll stay.”

“Then you have to! We’ll help!” Shouyou insisted as Kenma stood to get dressed into his night clothes. 

“Good luck with that,” he murmured. His uniform fell off his shoulders and tumbled the floor, as Kenma exchanged it for his sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, crawling on his bed. 

 

“What will happen to you if they do go through with it, Kenma?” Shouyou sounded so young then, like a curious child who didn’t want to see the world as it was quite yet. Kenma closed his eyes, releasing a sigh. There was no way he could keep up with competitive team. That was way too much work.

“I guess I’ll go back home,” he said. Shouyou whined, high pitched and drawn out, and Kenma felt tempted to smile.

“Do you want to go home, Kenma?” he asked, careful, shy.

“No,” Kenma said without thinking, surprising even himself. Nekoma had its downfalls, it was true, but he’d rather be there than back in Makuro. There were some things he just couldn’t do.

“Do you miss it at all?” Shouyou asked.

Kenma hesitated, “Sometimes. But there’s not a lot left to miss.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause then, the only sound being the muffled noises of conversation coming from rooms next to theirs. 

Kenma sighed, taking a deep breath in as he crawled under the covers, “Makuro isn’t somewhere you miss a lot.”

 

 

“Kenma. Toss to me?”  Kuroo asked, ball gripped tightly in his hands as Kenma looked up, sitting on the bench. It was ten minutes before the match in Karasuno, and both teams were just waiting for the whistle to blow to begin. Nekoma’s spirits were high, with the exception of Kuroo and Kenma. Try as he might to hide it with sly smiles and pep talks, it was evident, at least to Kenma, that Kuroo was on edge. His eyes bore into Kenma’s, burning with a frustration Kenma knew would only be satisfied if he were on the court playing.

“Alright,” Kenma murmured, and stood up, taking the ball from Kuroo. They stalked to one side of the court together, and Kenma couldn’t help but keep his eyes on Kuroo, studying him carefully. Surprising himself, there was an itch beneath his skin as well, but it seemed related more to the fact that Kuroo was on edge than the news they had received from coach.

The words echoed in his head as Kenma tossed his first serve towards Kuroo:  _ Will you fight for it, Kenma? _

A towering shadow was cast over Kenma’s face, and he watched as Kuroo’s hand met the ball, and there was a beat of silence before it hit the ground. Kuroo landed gracefully, and picked the ball back up.

“Again?”

_Will you fight for it?_ _  
_ Kenma sent him another toss, taking pride in his precision as Kuroo hit it again, and the ball went spiralling, and hit the wall hard, causing a couple of their opponents to turn their heads.

“Again.”  
Another toss, this time Kuroo grunted as he hit it, the frustration he had been hiding before leaking through. Sweat ran down his temple and Kenma almost suggested stopping, for Kuroo to save his energy for the game. _Whatever,_ he thought. It was his loss after all.

_ Will you fight for it? _

It  _ was  _ his loss, though, Kenma figured. Not just the game, but the team. If the rec team went, Kuroo would clearly be devastated. Kenma tried to imagine something he had worked so hard to build, only for it to fall the minute he left. That could very well be with his team in Makuro. Were they still playing? Or was everything he did meaningless? His hands slipped as he sent the next toss, and it went way below Kuroo’s range, and he missed. Kuroo took the ball and seemed shaken from his trance. He looked at Kenma somewhat helplessly, and picked the ball up.

“Thanks, Kenma,” he smiled, genuine this time. Kenma nodded, and followed him back to the rest of the group, reminding himself not to get distracted when tossing. If the thought of his old team was enough to shake him for just one toss, he wondered just how it would affect Kuroo in game. And the rest of the team when they found out, for that matter.

“Alright, everyone, get over here!” Kuroo called to the others, circling in for one last talk before the game. It didn’t really matter, whether they won or loss. There was no trophy to bring home- that part, the school board had gotten right. And yet, they all fought, they all played like nationals were on the line. Yamamoto looked at Kuroo with intensity as he talked, reviewing positions and signals, and Yaku bit his lip. There was an unspoken fire between all of them. Kenma tried not to imagine their devastation if the rec team were dissolved.

“Let’s go out there and kick some ass,” Kuroo nodded, prompting a chorus of cheerful yelling, as their team dispersed, going to their rightful places on the field. As Kenma walked to his spot, he made eye contact with Kuroo.

“Let’s give them a reason to let us stick around,” Kuroo said, only loud enough for Kenma to hear.

He nodded, stepping onto the court with new confidence.

They won that night by a few points, and Kenma felt a strange pull every time he tossed to Kuroo as the captain scored point after point. The two were lifted up like kings at the end of the game, despite there being no end reward, nothing to mark their victory. But if Kenma could, he’d take a picture of what it looked like being hoisted in the air- surrounded by those smiling faces, and slam it on their principal’s desk to show them that  _ that  _ was what they were bringing home. But then again, he’d never build up the courage to do anything like that, and felt himself deflate as he climbed on the bus.

Kenma ended up sitting next to Kuroo on the bus, pulling out his Gameboy to play while Kuroo talked with the other team members, who were turned around in their seats, too excited to sleep. Kenma’s body soon caught up with him as the ride continued, and he blinked sleepily, and very carefully let his head tip sideways to rest against Kuroo’s shoulder. Thankfully, the older boy said nothing, and let Kenma continually game in peace. 

 

He could feel the vibrations run through Kuroo’s body every time he laughed. Heard Bokuto say that he thought this was the best team Nekoma had. Fought back a smile as Yamamoto said something stupid and Yaku smacked him.

_ Will you fight for it? _

Nekoma, Kenma realized, might be the only thing he had, but uncertainty nipped at the back of his brain. Kenma wasn’t much of a fighter, and really saw no way he could sway the school board’s decision, so what was it worth, fighting them?  _ Oh well,  _ Kenma thought, letting his Gameboy drop in his lap and slowly shutting his eyes.  _ Summer is almost here. I’ll figure that by the end of break. _


	7. Submerged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer vacation begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for the chapter:  
> for the fun parts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAOMIH7cgh0  
> for the sweeter or somber parts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gk8C7ZxsJCU

**[19:47] Shouyou:** And I taught Natsu how to ride a bike without training wheels!! She’s fallen off way less than I did!!

 

**[19:48] Kenma:** How many times did you fall off?

 

**[19:48] Shouyou:** Only like 17 times the first day!!

 

The vibrations from the train jostled Kenma in his seat as he tapped out a reply to Shouyou’s bombardment of texts about the getaway his mother planned for him and his sister. He was having fun, Kenma learned, but the cabin they were staying at didn’t have any teenagers in the neighborhood. Worst of all, according to Shouyou, there was no volleyball court. Just a few days into summer and he was already itching to go back to playing the sport.

If you asked Kenma, he was just fine without grueling practices and getting his shirts all sweaty. Work had taken up most of his time, as he had promised Saeko most of his hours.

His shifts often went like this: Kenma would shelve and move things and occasionally work the register while Saeko did all the important paperwork and talked to customers and sometimes ordered takeout. Hours would pass with only the occasional exchange, and before Kenma could even think about how he’d rather be playing games on Shouyou’s PSP, the daylight coming in from the windows would fade, and the city outside buzzed in anticipation for the evening. Kenma would then clock out, shut off the lights, and make his way for the short train ride back to campus.

The train came to a halt, and a robotic voice announced his stop. Kenma stood and made his way for the doors, only glancing at the few other passengers who sat in the chairs, half asleep from a day’s work. 

Cool air greeted him as he left the train station, the summer heat extinguished as the setting sun was disappearing from view. 

“ID please,” the round, pleasant woman at the entrance of Nekoma piped from behind her little desk. Kenma showed her his student ID card and waved, walking through the front gate. He was almost to his dorm, to an evening of relaxing and playing video games.

“Look out!” a high pitched voice caught Kenma’s attention as he looked up just to see a frisbee fly inches from his face, and another student, a blonde girl with the composure of a first year, ran after it, pausing to shoot an apologetic look at Kenma. “Sorry!”

Kenma stuttered an apology back and walked faster, looking on at the small group of first years that ran after the frisbee with her, laughing and running, out of their uniforms. It was a whole different world on campus when classes weren’t in session, he had learned.

At long last, Kenma reached his dorm building, climbing the stairs and reaching for his key, when he stopped dead outside his room’s door. Kenma’s eyes narrowed as he listened more intently. Through the door, he swore, he could hear voices and shuffling.

Quickly double checking to be sure he had the right door number, he braced himself and put the key into the door, and pulled it open.

“Oh,” was all he could say. Sprawled out on his and Shouyou’s bed was a ragtag group of boys that should have left campus days ago.

“He’s back!” Bokuto exclaimed.

“We were going to surprise you in a more… tactful way-” Daichi started.

“But Kuroo showed us the spare key you gave him,” Yaku rocked back and forth on one of the beds nonchalantly. The perpetrator himself sat on the floor in the center of the room with a box, smiling as innocently as was possible for Kuroo.

“I brought you pie,” he held up the box to Kenma, who eyed it skeptically. A peace offering. Payment to socialize on the spot.

“What kind?”

“Apple.”

Kenma thought for a moment, considering it. He took the box from Kuroo.

“Fine.”

The boys cheered.

“So why are you in my room?” he asked them, digging into the pie. It was then he noticed that behind Bokuto sat another boy he had never seen before, with steely eyes and a head of curly, black hair. “And who’s this?”

“This is Akaashi!” Bokuto’s volume level increased exponentially as he grabbed Akaashi’s hand. “I think I’ve told you about him!”

“You’ve only described him in excruciating detail dozens of times,” Yaku snorted. 

“Good to finally meet you, Kenma,” Akaashi gave Kenma a polite smile and nod, which he returned. He was already bewildered as to how someone quiet enough for Kenma to not notice right away could willingly be with Bokuto. But Kenma could understand Bokuto’s interest. For his shyness, Akaashi was striking in appearance.

“And to answer your first question,” Bokuto continued. “We came back...well, because…”

“We missed you,” Daichi said matter-of-factly. Kenma blinked, and waited for snickers or sarcasm, but as he surveyed his friends’ faces, he could see that they all looked… genuine.

“Kuroo missed you more than any of us combined, though,” Yaku broke the silence, prompting Kuroo to leap from the floor launch himself on top of Yaku, incomprehensible angry babbling from both of them.

“So we brought the party here!” Bokuto piped cheerfully over Yaku’s yelling.

“I have work all week,” Kenma deadpanned. There was no way he was giving up his hours.

“Don’t you have a couple days off?” Kuroo asked, trapped in a headlock. Kenma pursed his lips and nodded.

“A couple days. Next week.”

“Well then, how would you like to travel with us and go canoeing? There’s a lake not too far from here,” Daichi suggested.

“It’s right by my house, so we can spend the night there!” said Bokuto.

“And what will you guys do until then?” 

They exchanged glances- suspicious, devious glances. Kuroo most devious of all.

“Oh there’s plenty to do around here when the adults aren’t looking,” he hummed. 

“On the trip- to the lake I mean,” Kenma cleared his throat, looking down at the string of texts on his phone screen. “Could Shouyou come?”

The other boys blinked, silent for a moment, before nodding vigorously.

“Good idea, Kenma!!” Bokuto piped. “I’ll text him now!”

“I got it,” Kenma replied, already pressing the send button. “And uh, thanks.”

“He should be thanking you, honestly,” Daichi snorted. “Bokuto adores Hinata, because he can keep up with him.”

“What can I say? I’m taking him under my wing!” Bokuto shot back.

Daichi bristled, “ _ I’m  _ his captain, not you, idiot!”

Kenma didn’t press that topic, finishing his pie and climbing to sit on his bed, pushing Yaku and Kuroo to move over, excitedly tapping our texts to Shouyou, who gratefully agreed to go. Despite fitting seven people in a tiny two person dorm, Kenma was quite comfortable sprawled over Kuroo and Yaku, half listening to Bokuto and Daichi argue over who was more fatherly toward Shouyou.

Kenma later discovered that it was in fact possible for seven teenage boys to fall asleep in a tiny room meant for two, as he dozed off between Kuroo and Yaku without even trying.

  
  


Kenma had been fine on his own. He had always taken care of himself for the longest time, so getting up every morning and getting himself to work was not at all a problem. 

Kenma had been  _ fine _ on his own, but all of the holes that had been there before- the little moments where he’d pull his nose out of his game and look to find that there was no shadow in place beside him- were suddenly filled again.

That shadow always seemed to be Kuroo.

Kenma would wake up in the morning and trudge to the dining hall, groggy as all hell, and find Akaashi and Bokuto in their pajamas, waving him over to one of the tables. Somewhere between the dining hall door and the table, a warm drink would arrive in his hands, and someone would ruffle his hair and wish him good morning, and Kenma would be just a little more alert. 

He’d walk to the train station with Kuroo, eyes locked on his PSP, while Kuroo would occasionally steer him left or right, narrowly avoiding a collision with a tree. 

“So we called the coaches in Tokyo near the tournament,” Kuroo would say, nudging Kenma and jerking his head towards the set of stairs in the subway that he was about to fall down. “And they actually seemed pretty excited to have us! In other years they’ve refused on account of their teams getting ‘distracted’, but they finally figured out that it could be a nice break for their teams.”

“Mmm,” Kenma would respond, descending the stone stairs into the station.

Kuroo would wave goodbye and watched as Kenma’s train pulled away to his work.

 

Some days, Kenma and Saeko would get familiar visitors in the shop, looking not for books, but the employees selling them. On Wednesday, it was Tanaka and Nishinoya from the competitive team, loitering around the shop and bugging their older sister. Though they’d hardly give Kenma a second glance, they were always friendly and always walked away with some comic book at a discounted price.

On another day, Daichi wandered in to also make conversation with Saeko, apologizing for Tanaka and Nishinoya’s distracting behavior and telling her about her brother’s progress on the team. He made mention of his mother’s boyfriend displaying his art in a nearby festival, and invited both of them along.

Kenma nodded, and texted Kuroo about it.

“You and Kuroo really are a package deal, aren’t you?” Saeko asked, peeking over Kenma’s shoulder, who flushed and hid his phone.

“It’s just expected that where one is, the other will be there too,” Daichi snickered from the corner. Kenma shot him a glare, even though it was a little true.

**[16:32] Kuro:** Art festival? Sounds cool, let’s do it.

 

And most days, when Kenma arrived home on the train, he’d find Kuroo sitting on a bench by the train station, and they’d walk back together in good company. 

In the evenings, every night before he went back to his dorm, Bokuto would invite him to sleep in their group suite, so he wasn’t lonely. Kenma would fight a smile, and politely decline, but think about the offer the whole way to bed. He’d talk to Shouyou on the phone while cleaning and talk about volleyball and any other topic Shouyou found interesting. Whenever the topic of his family would come up, Shouyou would shy around the topic of his parents working, his buzzing voice getting a little lower and a little more melancholy. Kenma’s heart would ache a little and change the topic. There were some things he didn’t need to press Shouyou about.

Tsukishima occasionally gave Kenma a respectful nod in greeting, and that was honestly more than what Kenma expected from him, so he wasn’t about to complain about it.

Their kindness was overall unnecessary, almost excessive, if you asked Kenma. But the holes that were there before were suddenly filled. And even with work, vacation was a well needed break.

 

On his last night of work before his trip to the lake, Kenma decided to help Saeko with closing, cleaning up the desk space and putting things away. The lights were dimmed in the shop as Kenma helped her really without a second thought.

“You really don’t have to do this, y’know. I know you’re going someplace fun tomorrow with your friends, you need as much sleep as you can get if you're with them,” Saeko joked, dusting off the blinds.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kenma said, suddenly thinking of Kuroo waiting for him by the train station. He quickly stacked the paperwork and put it in Saeko’s desk, finishing off the last of their work. Shutting off the lights and the open sign, Saeko and Kenma parted ways with a pleasant goodbye.

Kenma was walking to the train station when a soft light and pleasant smell filled his senses. Looking to the little bakery he passed every day, he got an idea.

Package in hand, Kenma stepped out of the train station and looked around, trying to find his friend in the darkness of the evening.

Finally, his eyes fell on a lump on the bench, hidden in the dark like a shadow and fast asleep. His black hair and dark shirt made for a camouflage in the twilight.

Kenma walked over and kicked Kuroo’s foot. The older boy snorted and jumped a little, prompting soundless laughter from Kenma. 

“Wake up, Kuro,” he said, holding out the styrofoam box. Kuroo blinked sleepily and took it.

Looking up at Kenma sheepishly, he said, “Sorry. We played volleyball all day. I got sleepy. What’s this?”

“Pie. For waiting so long.”

“Aw, Kenma, you didn’t have to-”

“Dont mention it. Let’s go.”

Kuroo snickered, “Alright.”

 

They went back to Kenma’s room and stayed up late playing video games to celebrate Kenma not having work the next day. Kuroo ate his pie and played with Kenma, losing against him in games again and again and again-

He gave up and let Kenma play single player, watching from Shouyou’s bed.

It was in the wee hours of the morning that Kenma, his tired eyes begging him to sleep, murmured a comment about completing a level, and looked up to see Kuroo curled up and asleep. His already messy hair hung in his face, and his lips jutted out in a distinct pout against the pillow under his chin. Kenma watched his chest rise and fall for what felt like forever, entranced by how still, how soft Kuroo was. He remembered how when him and Kuroo had studied together a month ago, how Kenma had fallen asleep, only to wake up with Kuroo’s jacket draped over him.

He smiled. Kenma had kept the jacket for a while, wearing it around the following weekend to see how long it took Kuroo to notice it was gone.

Kuroo eventually did, as the jacket looked massive on Kenma’s smaller frame,  but seemed pained when Kenma shrugged it off his shoulders and handed it back. He could never figure out why that was.

At any rate, Kenma threw a blanket over Kuroo and shut the screen off, watching the white light against his pale skin fade into shadow.

Canoe day came with a bang and the sound of five teenage boys outside Kenma’s door. He hid under his pillow and groaned, willing them to disappear with no avail. Kenma heard the sound of Kuroo yawning and stumbling to the door, half asleep.

“KUROO IT’S TIME TO GO,” Bokuto’s voice was about triple the volume Kenma was willing to put up with.

Kuroo yawned again and said, “Yeah, yeah, give us like five minutes.”

“OH  _ HO,  _ YOU AND KENMA WERE  _ SLEEPING  _ TOGETHER?”

Kenma heard the door shut immediately.

“Kenma? You awake?”

Kenma buried himself deeper in his bed. “No.”

“Great! Grab your swim trunks and a change of clothes, and we’ll get breakfast.”

Kenma lifted his head up from the pillows, blinking blearily at Kuroo. “Swim trunks?”

Kuroo grinned, leaning against the wall and running a hand through his hopelessly messy hair, “You really think the eight of  _ us  _ are going canoeing and won’t get wet somehow?”

Kenma thought for a moment. With Daichi and Kuroo’s competitive streak, added to Bokuto’s endless hyper attitude, that was just a recipe for disaster.

“Fine,” Kenma sighed.

 

The boys dressed and trekked down the stairs to meet the rest of their group, small duffel bags in hand, chatting amongst themselves excitedly. As a unit, they made their way to the dining hall and grabbed granola bars and fruit, vowing to have a larger lunch after the train ride.

Kenma fell in line with Daichi and Akaashi, exchanging news between their two respective teams. Akaashi, Kenma heard, came from a public school just 20 minutes away, and was the starting setter for his team. He was a second year like Kenma, and though he had friends at his school, he quite enjoyed coming and visiting Nekoma on weekends and vacations. Otherwise, Bokuto took a train to see  _ him  _ when he could, a fact that Kenma had already learned through Bokuto’s late night story telling of Akaashi The Great and Heavenly Boyfriend.

They reached the train station and boarded quickly, weaving through the small morning crowd of your everyday businessmen and college students. Kenma sat on the train between Tsukishima and Akaashi, pulling out Shouyou’s PSP and getting to work. Tsukishima put on his headphones and tuned out the sound of Kuroo and Bokuto talking next to Akaashi, while the latter scolded Bokuto for being loud, but held his hand anyways. 

“You don’t have a swim suit,” Kenma remarked, looking Tsukishima up and down. He pulled down his headphones.

“I’ll pass on canoeing,” he shrugged, eyeing Kuroo. “I know exactly how it’s going to end.”

“With everyone except Akaashi nearly drowning?”

“Let’s hope so.”

Kenma tried to hide his snickering as Tsukishima smirked for just a second, before putting his headphones back on and tuning out. Kenma went back to his PSP, knowing full well that Tsukishima was doomed to get wet with the rest of them.

“ _ Stop: Karasuno Station,”  _ the announcement over the speakers chimed after about an hour, causing all seven boys to perk up.

The train doors opened and in walked Shouyou in a t-shirt and swim trunks, immediately making a bee line for Kenma.

“Kenma!” he cried, dropping one of his bags and throwing his arms around Kenma suddenly. Kenma lurched in his seat before tentatively returning the hug.

“Hey, Shouyou.”

“I woke up early this morning because I was so excited!” Shouyou began, stumbling as the train lurched into motion again. He grasped the strap above him to regain balance and proceeded to give Kenma a play by play of his entire morning, while Kenma’s PSP lay forgotten in his lap.

“So I think I’ll get a kayak! I’m an excellent kayaker,” Shouyou explained. Kenma stole a glance at Tsukishima next to him, who still was wearing headphones.

“That’s probably for the best, considering your fellow first year wants nothing to do with canoeing,” Kenma jerked his head to the side.

Shouyou grinned, deviously, “Betcha we’ll still get him wet!”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

Shouyou laughed, loud and boisterous, as Daichi caught Kenma’s eye. He was leaned over next to Kuroo, whispering something and looking at the two. For a moment, Kenma felt a prickle of anxiety, but he then saw a look in Kuroo’s eyes that was easy to identify- happiness. For Kenma.

Kenma turned his attention back to Shouyou with a small smile, “So tell me again about teaching Natsu how to bike.

“ _Stop: Fukurōdani_ _Station,_ ” the voice over the speaker said about an hour later. Eight boys stood up and gathered their things, finally in Bokuto’s home town.

They were hopping off the train when Bokuto threw his bags down and ran for a person standing in the station.

“Mama!” he shouted and wrapped his arms around the tiny woman, who laughed and held him so tight it made Kenma’s heart wrench just a little. Yaku, Daichi, Kuroo, and Akaashi followed suit, surrounding the middle aged woman and talking excitedly. Kenma, Shouyou, and Tsukishima exchanged glances, before Bokuto grabbed them by their sleeves and dragged them towards her.

“Mama. This is Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shouyou, and Kozume Kenma,” he presented them to the kind woman.

“Pleased to meet you,” they said politely, and before Kenma could react, he was in the woman’s arms.

“Nice to meet you boys. So glad you came,” she said, holding Kenma tighter. Against his better judgement, Kenma let her hug him, feeling overcome by warmth and the waves of Motherly Love she emitted. Admittedly, Kenma found he quite liked Bokuto’s mother already.

“My name is Bokuto Hana,” she said, releasing Kenma to get a good look at him. Hana was somewhere in her late 40s, with shoulder length black hair that shaped her angled face perfectly. She was Kenma’s height but looked like she could rip him in half if she really wanted. Which, already knowing Hana, was terribly unlikely unless he were to wrong Bokuto in any way.

“The lake is just a few blocks from our home, so it’s right within walking distance.”

“Thank you for having us, Mama,” Kuroo said graciously, but she waved him off.

“It’s no trouble to me. An empty house is a lonely house, and I do expect you boys to help me with dinner.”

“Yes, Mama,” the boys nodded.

“Good! Let’s get you all out of here, mhmm?”

Like a group of ducklings following their mother, the troupe of boys followed Bokuto Hana out of the train station and down the streets of Bokuto’s home town, until the houses turned into thick trees, and the asphalt to dirt.

Hana was like her son in many ways- capturing everyone's attention with no effort at all, friendly to the core, and adoring Akaashi with a whole heart. She parted with them at a road lined with trees, wishing them farewell, and Kenma waved with the rest of the boys, looking forward to dinner.

 

“Here we are,” Bokuto gestured ahead of the group and through the trees. Just feet ahead, Kenma could see a clearing that lead to a body of sparkling water, where several groups of people mingled, getting into canoes and kayaks.

“Alright, let’s get some canoes,” Daichi decided, leading them to the little shack by the lake.

The boys paid a small fee to use the canoes and dragged them out together, Tsukishima walking leisurely behind. Kenma ended up somehow carrying a canoe with Kuroo, Akaashi with Bokuto, and Yaku partnered with Daichi. Shouyou bounced along, dragging his kayak behind him.

“Alright this time around- y’know,  _ just _ a suggestion- maybe we could paddle like normal people and enjoy the lake,” Yaku suggested, pushing his canoe in the water. 

“Sounds like you're just bitter you and Bokuto got  _ tipped  _ last year,” Daichi grinned.

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault Bokuto didn’t know his left from his right!”

Bokuto stick his tongue out at Yaku and hoisted himself into his canoe with Akaashi, “You confused me! Don't try and make it my fault!”

“Don't worry, Yaku,” Daichi out a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Now you can get your revenge.”

Kenma and Kuroo climbed into their canoe and pushed themselves away from the shore, following the other two canoes towards the center of the lake. 

The three partnerships plus one kayak floated on the water, the tranquilness of the lake almost overwhelming.

“Paddle faster, slowpoke,” Kuroo poked Kenma in the back so hard he almost lost his grip on the canoe paddle.

“Don’t be such a control freak,” Kenma murmured, picking up the speed by the smallest margin he felt necessary.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

“HEYYYYYY Kenma!!!” a red canoe practically flew past them, Bokuto sitting in the back paddling with such vigor that there really was no need for Akaashi to try, as he barely tapped the water with his paddle. Kenma careened his head back towards Kuroo and jerked his chin in there direction as if to say, “See?”. Kuroo squinted back at him.

“You want me to compete with  _ Bokuto?  _ Have you  _ seen  _ his biceps?”

Kenma shrugged, “I just thought he looked cool. But you don’t have to do it, I guess.”

“You think it’d… look cool?”

It was then that Kenma knew he had gotten to Kuroo, as the other boy had suddenly lost his composure. Kenma tilted his head thoughtfully, “Yeah.”

Kuroo turned a particular shade of pink, shrugged off his jacket, and gripped the paddle in his hand.

“Watch and learn,” he said, a glimmer in his eye. Kenma sat back and relaxed, pleased with himself as Kuroo began paddling at an abnormal speed, quickly catching up to Bokuto. “Hey  _ hey  _ Bokuto!” he yelled, and Bokuto turned back toward them and grinned.

“Are you challenging me, Kuroo?!” He yelled back, paddling faster and successfully splashing water everywhere.

“Bet I can beat you both!” Shouyou shrieked.

“Last one to Daichi’s canoe has to ask Coach on a date!” Kuroo promptly challenged. Kenma groaned. Why did he have to be so  _ weird  _ sometimes?

Finally, Kenma had the motivation to paddle, all because of Kuroo and his big head (After all, nothing was stronger than the Threat of Embarrassment). Focusing on Daichi and Yaku peacefully conversing in their canoe, Kenma paddled in sync with Kuroo, until they whizzed past, Akaashi, Bokuto, and Shouyou just next to them.

“It’s a tie!” Yaku yelled. Kuroo and Bokuto protested loudly, and Kenma breathed a sigh of relief. Resting  _ and  _ avoiding Crippling Anxiety.

The sound of yelling causes Kenma to turn, and the sight of Akaashi and Bokuto both paddling at full speed straight for their boat came all too late. Kuroo and Kenma’s canoe rocked violently with the collision , and the other two boys reached over and gave it one extra push, and that was it. Before Kenma could think, lake water swallowed him, and the two boys were deposited into the water.

It was fortunate that the water wasn’t as cold as Kenma had expecting, and took him a moment as the bubbled foamed around his body to even realize what had happened. He felt what was likely Kuroo’s legs bump against his as both boys fought against the impact. He let his body float there under the water for a moment, before squeezing his eyes tighter and kicking where he knew to probably be upwards next to his friend.

Finally, Kenma’s head breached the surface and he opened his mouth, sucking in air and opening his eyes to see Kuroo’s face just inches from his, doing the same. He blinked the water out of his eyes and realized he was in the dark- it appeared that they were both under the flipped canoe.

“Bastards,” Kuroo huffed, the air hot on Kenma’s face. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kenma said breathlessly. He glanced down, noting how neither of them seemed very eager to put distance in between each other. He drank in the sight of Kuroo in the dim light, soaked to the bone and a little bit flushed. Kenma’s eyes trailed up his neck and face and landed on his hair- his raven black bedhead that finally, with the help of some god forsaken lake water, lay flat.

Kenma felt something bubbly and light bounce up his throat and he couldn’t help it, the sight of what Kuroo’s hair would look like if it were normal was just too strange. Kenma laughed, light and low, possessed by a case of the giggles. Soon Kuroo was laughing with him- not loud and boisterous, but gentle and quiet, like a whisper, like something private he held just between the two of them.

“What is it?” he asked.

Kenma tried to find strength through his laughter, “Your hair. It looks weird.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened as his hands flew to his hair, feeling the wet locks of hair that tumbled down his face and stuck to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. 

“Weird?” he whined defensively. “I’ve been trying to get it to lay flat for most of my  _ life!” _

Kenma only laughed harder, almost sinking into the water as he lost control of himself. Kuroo leaned closer, his hands touching Kenma’s arms as he made a mock offended face.

“You got a  _ problem  _ with my hair, Kenma? Huh?” he leered, his forehead bumping against Kenma’s, who was trying to catch his breath. Kuroo snorted and shook his head with a grin, and Kenma noticed as he gathered his composure that Kuroo was looking at him funny. It was an expression that Kenma didn’t quite know how to place, the way Kuroo held his stare made him strangely nervous. 

Kenma was then aware at how their location to each other  _ had  _ in fact changed- Kuroo’s face was  _ right there.  _ He felt the heat in his chest rush to his face all at once,

Kuroo then opened his mouth to say something, the softness of his face unlike anything he had seen on Kuroo before, when-

“...two, three!” a muffled voice said, and cold air rushed in to greet them both as the canoe was lifted up over their heads. Kenma realized all at once what they were all going to see, what they were going to  _ think  _ when the canoe was fully lifted, so as the boat rocked the right side up, Kenma plunged his head under the water.

The sounds of teenaged boys yelling were muffled under the water, and gave Kenma’s brain the perfect opportunity to replay what had just happened over and over again in his head as he floated about lifelessly.

_ Holy shit.  _

Before the panic could fully set in, Kenma was suddenly grabbed by the arms- two strong but gentle hands, and dragged up, up, until the breeze of the summer evening greeted his face.

“ _ THEEEEERE HE IS!”  _ Bokuto’s voice yelled triumphantly, as both Bokuto and Akaashi hoisted Kenma’s lithe body out of the water, and dragging him into their canoe.

The sound of laughter echoed and danced in Kenma’s ears as he glanced around, wide eyed. Bokuto and Akaashi were both wet next to him, laughing and saying things indistinguishable to Kenma’s waterlogged ears, and just across the way, beyond his formerly tipped canoe, were Daichi and Yaku, also laughing and soaked to the bone, with a very wet Kuroo splayed out in the middle of their canoe as well and Shouyou lounging on an overturned kayak, wet as a dog.

“Why are you wet?” Kenma peered up at Bokuto, whose hair was notably also comical when it was laying flat.

“We’re bros, bro! We all fall together!” he said animatedly. “Except when we jumped in to join you two, we noticed you hadn’t come up! Had we known you  _ lovebirds-” _

“Give em a rest, Bokuto!” Daichi yelled across the way, taking pity on Kenma’s blushing face, but a mischievous grin on his nonetheless. He burst out laughing again, the other boys joining in, collectively making fools out of Kuroo and Kenma.

Kenma’s eyes met Kuroo’s, who chuckled and shrugged helplessly, and Kenma looked away bashfully.

After a few minutes of collectively trying to get their shit together, Kenma and Kuroo were deposited back into their canoe and the eight of them paddled back to the shore, where Tsukishima waited with an amused grin.

“You all look like idiots,” he scoffed.

“Awwww, Tsukki, we’re  _ your  _ idiots, though!” Kuroo cried, climbing out the canoe with arms soaking and open wide. Tsukishima realized all too late what Kuroo intended to do as the upperclassmen launched himself at him, and wrapped him in a big, wet hug. Daichi, Yaku, Shouyou, and Bokuto all threw themselves out of their canoes to run across the shore and join the hug, getting a very pissed off Tsukishima very wet as he let out a slew of curse words. Kenma and Akaashi met gazes and shook their heads, embarrassed as their display was beginning to attract stares.

“I think I’ve had enough lake water for one day,” Akaashi smiled next to him, wringing the water out of his shirt. Together, the two dragged the boats up the shore, joining the others in grabbing their phones in a pile that was left by Tsukishima. They made their way up the path, barefoot and free.

  
  


“Look at him sleep like that. You wouldn’t think of him as the loud type just by looking at him now,” Yaku marvelled. Kenma’s friends lay on Bokuto’s living room floor, each of them curled up in a sleeping bag, smelling less like lake than they did just hours before. They stared at Bokuto in the middle of their setup, fast asleep and looking like he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

“Amazing,” Kuroo said. “Midnight hits and he’s out.”

“He didn’t even  _ do  _ anything today,” Tsukishima added. Kuroo shot him an unimpressed look.

“Neither did you, Mr. I’d Rather Stand on the Shore.”

“I put up with all of you.”

Kuroo stretched and stood up, looking down at Tsukishima.

“I want to go play volleyball. Tsukishima, come practice with me.”

The blonde boy raised his eyebrows at that, seemingly surprised at the very idea of playing volleyball at midnight. But Kuroo was Kuroo, and there really was no telling when he was in the mood to play. And one thing was for sure- when it came to getting Tsukishima to practice, there was no refusing him.

“Fine,” the younger boy submitted immediately, being sure to get up as slowly as possible as Kuroo played with the volleyball in his hands impatiently. They slid open the side door and went out to the small yard next to Bokuto’s house. The other boys spectated from their sleeping bags for a minute or two, before devolving into their own conversations. Kenma took out his PSP and started up a level he had been meaning to finish, quietly listening in on Akaashi, Daichi, and Yaku talk amongst themselves.

“Bokuto tells me the recreational team might be disbanded,” Akaashi’s voice broke Kenma’s concentration as he nearly dropped his PSP, being careful not to look like he was paying attention. Surprisingly, there seemed to be no shock coming from the other two boys, as Yaku snorted.

“There really are no secrets amongst the teams, are there?”

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Shouyou added.

“What’s the use?” Daichi added. “We gotta act fast if we want the Rec team to stay.”

Akaashi asked, “What will you all do?”

There was a beat of silence then, a space in between their exchange weighing heavy with uncertainty. Kenma took a deep breath and spoke.

“It’s simple, isn’t it?” he said, seeing four heads turn his way out of the corner of his eyes. He looked down, swallowing heavily. Kenma was never one to voice his opinion. “We have to play better. As good as the competitive team. If we play better, we will attract scouts. If we attract scouts, then the school benefits. That’s what the administration wants. We can’t give them trophies or money, but we can give them a good reputation for players that universities want.”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt to win a few more games,” Bokuto agreed. Daichi nodded, sipping his tea. Kenma breathed a sigh of relief.

“All of the third year rec players are good enough to get into some really nice universities,” he said.

“Aw, Daichi, you flatter me,” Bokuto gushed, earning an annoyed huff from the other boy.

“I hope everything works itself out,” Akaashi added, his eyes fixed on Bokuto. He then turned to Kenma. “After all, there are quite a few promising second years, I’ve heard.”

Kenma’s shoulders were suddenly trapped in a pair of tremendous biceps as Bokuto wrapped him in an enthused hug, “Aw yeah, Kenma’s the best! He’s so smart and can be super scary to other teams!”

“...Scary?” Kenma muttered, wriggling free of Bokuto’s grasp.

“Yeah! You get all focused during games, some of the other players look scared to cross your path! Kinda like Akaashi!”

Kenma looked to Daichi helplessly. He’d never really looked in the mirror and seen anyone particularly threatening, but Daichi shrugged, “He’s got a point. Watching you play, it’s like you’re the brain of the team. You look like you could see right through the other players. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

“Give me a break,” Kenma rolled his eyes, but blushed at the compliments. It was… nice to hear, actually. He had known that he was a valued member of the team, but being called “the brain” was something unique on its own.

“Yeah!!” Kuroo’s booming voice could be heard from outside, and the four boys turned to look out the door to see their friend praising and teasing Tsukishima at the same time for something he did. Kenma smiled without meaning to, looking at him tussle the first year’s hair.

If Kenma was the brain, Kuroo was surely the heart.

Kenma’s smile faded as he looked on at Kuroo, and voiced his thoughts, “He’s afraid, isn’t he?”

He could feel Daichi’s eyes on him.

“Yes.”

“We won’t get shut down,” Kenma said, the finality in his voice surprising even him.

Daichi was definitely smiling, “Yes.”

 

Hours later, eight boys lay asleep in the Bokuto living room, sprawled out next to, and partially on top of each other. In the corner of the room was a dim light casted on one of the boy’s face, the exception among his dreaming friends.

One more level,  _ then  _ Kenma would go to sleep. His eyes felt glazed and prickly as he stared at the screen, his mind somehow more awake in the dead of night than in the day. For reasons he could never figure out, Kenma was always better at video games in the wee hours. 

“Psst.”

His character was jumping over a fiery pit when a hissed whisper caused Kenma to just about jump out of his skin, and his player fell into the pit and died as Kenma pulled the PSP away from his face.

“Kenma, for the love of God,” he could see Kuroo’s outline sitting up a bit in the dark, whispering just loud enough for the two of them to hear. Kenma didn’t say anything back, but glared in response. Kuroo got the message and snorted, exasperated.

“Kenma, you need sleep.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh. Sleep.”  
“No.”

Kuroo seemed to think for a moment. “If you don’t stop playing video games, I’m gonna get up and start playing volleyball.”

“...”

“Loudly.”

“....”

When Kenma did nothing, Kuroo very suddenly grabbed the volleyball next to his sleeping back and rustled loudly, getting up. Other boys in the room rolled in their sleep, disturbed. Quick as lightning, as Kuroo was getting up, Kenma pressed the power button on the PSP. Kuroo froze, and slowly, carefully, laid back down. Kenma pouted. He could almost see Kuroo’s shit eating grin.

“Spoilsport,” Kenma whispered, loud enough for his friend to hear. Kuroo only snickered.

“Night, Pudding Head.”

Kenma froze for a moment, “...Night.”

 

Kenma shut his eyes, all too aware of Kuroo sleeping right next to him. He was trusting Kenma, Nekoma’s Brain, to keep their team together. And Kenma thought, as his body finally rested, that he could handle that.

Yeah, he could do that.

 

“I can’t believe we have to go back to school tomorrow!” Shouyou whined, unpacking his bag in their dorm, a week after Kenma had gone canoeing with his teammates. School was, unfortunately, back in session. “I don’t wanna  _ work. _ ”

Kenma thought of the tests he now had to worry about again, “Mm. Me neither.”

“Did you have fun over break at least?” Shouyou asked. Kenma saw canoes, the evening sun on the lake, train rides and late nights.

“Yes. Did you?”

“Yup! The lake was my favorite part! I also played a lot with Natsu and my mom!” Shouyou suddenly sobered. “I tried to spend time with my dad, but…”

Kenma stopped and looked up from his phone, eyeing Shouyou, the boy’s shoulders sagging just the slightest bit. That’s right. His dad was always working.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“It’s alright! I don’t want to bum you out… I just.. Never see him a lot, y’know?” Shouyou kept his hands busy folding clothes.

“If it’s any comfort, my dad isn’t around,” Kenma said quietly. “I think I know how you feel a little bit”

“Aww, Kenma!” Shouyou’s eyes were suddenly watery. Kenma snorted, his spirit lightening a little bit.

“Don’t worry about it, Shouyou, we weren’t close anyways. I hope you get to see your dad soon.”

Shouyou brightened a bit, “Yeah! I bet I’ll see him next break!” he paused. “I hope you get to see yours too!”

Kenma shook his head, “Not likely.”

He remembered the black business suit. Dark brown hair combed carefully on a well sculpted face. Kenma’s eyes. Kenma’s tight frown. The front door shutting as Kozume Sabrina yelled one last insult.

 

Kenma closed his eyes.

_ Dad. _   


He felt Shouyou’s innocent eyes on him, wide with empathy. Kenma bit his lip and thought for a moment, thought about how, despite all the time they spent together, Kenma had never really bothered to tell Shouyou anything about himself. He took a deep breath and looked at Shouyou in the bravest way he could muster.

“Do you remember where I’m from, Shouyou?”

He shook his head, a little embarrassed, and sat on his bed, looking at Kenma expectantly.

Kenma looked down at his hands, “I’m from Makuro. It’s a little town, not really far from Tokyo. My parents moved there right after I was born…”


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouyou has reached level 5 friend and unlocked Kenma's tragic backstory. A brief chapter, this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8P6U_80r7Y

The Kozume family hadn’t always been broken.

 

Somewhere in a little house in Makuro sits a framed picture collecting dust. A blonde woman sits in the center, caught in the midst of laughter. Her husband stands next to her, hand on her shoulder. His face is serious, but a small smile tugs at his lips, like he’s trying to keep a straight face. On the lap of the laughing woman is a small child, hair shaggy on his head, a deep chestnut brown. The centerpiece of the photo, however, is his enormous, catlike eyes, peering rebelliously not at the camera, but at his mother’s face. There were better takes that day, but Sabrina Kozume chose that one to be framed, a homage to the nature of their little family.

 

Or at least, it had been. Kenma could scarcely remember those happier times, but he did remember the fighting. One of his most vivid memories was the divorce. He had been in primary school. Switching between two little houses- from his mother’s, where the laughter had died in her stomach, burned from alcohol- to his father’s, where he was so busy, Kenma wondered if he remembered having a son. Then his mother got full custody when his father moved away for his job. That was when Kenma learned to identify the smell of whiskey and the bitter taste of loneliness.

 

He knew he shouldn’t have grown up to be so angry with his mother. Yeah, she had done it to herself, but Sabrina still tried again and again to act like the alcohol wasn’t there, and that she was an ordinary mother trying to support her son. The first time Kenma had gotten in a fight, he came home with a busted lip and scrapes on his cheek. The kids a year above him took a particular dislike to him. Kenma was too quiet, Kenma was too small, Kenma was too scrawny, Kenma was being disrespectful when he ignored them, so Kenma paid the price.

Sabrina had almost launched herself from the kitchen table when he came through the front door, already wetting down a washcloth to clean him up. Kenma had been so overwhelmed by the notion that he made a beeline from the front to the back door, running out again to escape. The next day, in between a long nap and drinks, Sabrina taught him how to win a fight against bigger, meaner opponents. The next time Kenma had come home from a fight, he’d won. And he found her pouring herself another glass. He didn’t say anything.

 

Kenma knew he should’ve grown up to be angry with his father. The holiday visits became few and far in between, the warmth for Kenma faded as the distance between Makuro and his next workplace became farther and farther. He became a stranger in their lives and the notion that he had ever cared about them to begin was only shown in the financial support. But when Kenma thought of his father, there was simply nothing there. No anger, no sadness. How do you mourn a person you can hardly remember to begin with?

 

Growing up, Kenma had passed all of his classes, doing his homework diligently and turning it all in on time. For a particularly difficult assignment, he’d received it back for full credit, much to his confusion. Looking on his friends’ copies, he’d found they had gotten different answers, but all received full credit as well. His instructor put no initiative in his classes, and his tired eyes look achingly familiar to Kenma, his breath had a particular pungent smell that he recognized. After that, he had stopped trying, knowing that his teachers weren’t either. The more he had experienced it, the more bored he became, and the more resentful he became towards the people passing him.

School became a waste of time. That is, until he met Nekomata. It was Kenma's second year of secondary school.

On his walk home, Kenma hadn’t realized at the time that the old man would become a staple in his life. That was when a volleyball had catapulted over Nekomata’s fence and connected with Kenma’s temple.

Rubbing his head, his pride more sore than his temple, Kenma had been surprised to see a boy poke his head over the fence, looking sheepish.

“Lev! What did you do?!” a raspy voice came from the other side of the fence. The boy winced.

“Sorry!” he squeaked. Kenma picked up the volleyball and held it out for him, when an old man came through the front gate, looking Kenma up and down. He looked ancient and timeless at the same time, a permanent smile stretching his face as he shook his head at the other boy.

He sighed, “Sorry about Lev, he’s an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” Kenma mumbled, waiting for someone to take the volleyball back, but the man staring him down. Kenma grew nervous.

“You’re Kozume,” he said, and Kenma almost jumped.

“How do you know my name?”

“I see you walk by here everyday, it isn’t hard to learn anyone’s name around here,” Nekomata chuckled. “You play volleyball, Kozume?”

“No.”  
“Well you should!” Lev piped in. “Coach, we could start a team!”

“What if I have better things to do?” Kenma said, eyes narrowed, but Nekomata only laughed.

“I know kids like you. There’s nothing better for you to be doing because you don’t have a life outside of teenage angst and falling asleep in class. Lev, put on some tea for the kid.”

But as the man called Coach Nekomata turned away for just a second, Kenma had slipped out of sight, continuing home as though nothing out of the ordinary happened. He walked faster by the house the next couple of days, ignoring the sound of the volleyball being hit against a wall again and again. On the fifth day, he stopped in front of the gate, and hesitantly went in. They had tea.

Volleyball became somewhat of a distraction for Kenma. He’d pass the old man’s house everyday and hesitate a moment before walking in, and continued to do so for months. When Kenma held the gate open for two other boys Nekomata had managed to recruit, he realized that volleyball was something he enjoyed, and therefore, was something he was afraid to lose. He became even more afraid when he grew old enough to hold a job, and buy the groceries, and clean the house in under an hour. Trading the sport for the calls of responsibility was the last thing he wanted. So he tried pushing Nekomata and the others away.

But, he learned, the thing that Nekomata loved the most was a challenge. So when Kenma was tired or angry or sad or feeling anything really, he snuck through the gate and sat in his vegetable garden, immersed in his Gameboy as he shut the world out. That was Nekomata’s personal victory. When Kenma expressed any disinterest in his grades, Nekomata threatened to lock the gate doors if Kenma started skipping. That was another victory.

It was his third year of secondary school that Kenma learned Daishou’s name, as the skinny, snake-eyed boy slunk into his life. He had seen him around of course, passing up schoolwork, eyeing anyone who crossed his path, and once more, when Daishou was loitering on the Kenma’s typical way home, and innocently stopped Kenma to ask about volleyball.

It was doomed from the start, Kenma realized as he brought Daishou through Nekomata’s door to join them for a few games. Daishou was already familiar with the game, and could keep up with the rest of them as far as skills went, going as far to indirectly challenge Kenma’s abilities as the boy found himself pushing harder than usual. The problem was, recognized by Nekomata, that he had no intentions to work in their team whatsoever.

When he had hissed a mean-spirited insult at Lev after weeks of practicing with them, Kenma had had enough. He firmly told Daishou to go. Daishou had been under the impression that he was joking, until the rest of their little team stood behind Kenma, a silent banishment.

He never forgave.

Daishou spat, infuriated, claiming that his skills would be better elsewhere. He slammed the gate after him.

He never forgot.

Kenma was outmatched by Daishou and his two friends, he learned after school one day. He was so quiet, the way the air left his mouth with a soft _oof_ as he hit the ground, lip busted open. Three pairs of sneakers met his ribs and legs, and he let out the quietest utterances of pain. When he could get up, Kenma had run past Nekomata’s house and all the way home, the bruises on his face and body stinging.

A year later, Daishou had disappeared off to some school. And a year after that, Kenma followed.

He closed his eyes, finishing his story to Shouyou, who stared, wide eyed. The younger boy probably said something in response, but Kenma could only hear static as he thought.

Makuro was home. It was broken, but it had his only family, his old friends, Nekomata’s vegetable garden to retreat to. But going back, he knew he’d feel like a stranger.

But Nekoma was also home. He was a stranger there too, but he had team that counted on him, that helped him grow. He had teachers who sought him out and worried over him and a job that was rewarding. He had Shouyou. He had Bokuto. He had Kuroo, and the rest of the team.

Shouyou left Kenma alone, thanking him for sharing so much about his life, before excusing himself to shower. Kenma sat alone in the room, staring out the window that overlooked much of the campus.

He took a deep breath.

There was no father here to walk out on him, no mother to neglect him, and a wall that separated him and Daishou.

 

Nekoma was the home Kenma made for himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR 100+ KUDOS!!!  
> Seriously thank you guys so much, I'm so happy to have y'alls support through this project. Its your feedback and kind words that keep me going, and I hope if you're reading this, you plan to see through the rest of the fic with me!!! As promised, in celebration of 100 kudos, next chapter will have a drawing in it. I'd do it for this chapter, but 1. This is heavy backstory and 0 fluff 2. I'm in the midst of my first college finals week (god help me). I expect to have next chapter up before Christmas, given that much of it is prewritten. I'll also be going back and doing some heavy editing to previous chapters, making corrections to some inconsistencies I had, and overall fixing my writing from 2 years ago, in its baby state.  
> Finally, muchas gracias to Emma, who still edits this fic when its in its Prime Garbage State. She's my rock and a great editor and best friend.
> 
> My tumblrs:  
> http://soulswimm-r.tumblr.com/  
> http://swimwrites.tumblr.com/


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